I L L I N O I S
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

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MURDER CONSIDERED AS ONE OF

THE FINE

ARTS

THREE MEMORABLE MURDERS
THE SPANISH NUN

BY

THOMAS DE QUINCEY

NEW

G. P.

YORK AND LONDON

PUTNAM'S

SONS

bte 1kniccerbocker lPree
.1

-

Press of
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

New York

CONTENTS

ON MURDER, CONSIDERED AS ONE OF THE FINE

ARTS

I

SUPPLEMENTARY

PAPER

ON

CON',ID-

MURDER,

ERED AS ONE OF THE FINE ARTS
THREE

MEMORABLE

MURDER

MURDERS.

CONSIDERED

THE SPANISH NUN

.

55
SEQUEL

AS ONE OF THE
.

.

ARTS

NOTES

A

.

.
.....

I 179256

TO

FINE

.

87

.

.

.

.
.

170
287

ON MURDER,
CONSIDERED AS ONE OF THE FINE ARTS.

Advertisement of a Man Morbidly Virtuous.

M OST of us, who read books, have probably
heard of a Society for the Promotion of
Vice, of the Hell-Fire Club, founded in the last
century by Sir Francis D-,
etc. At Brighton,
I think it was, that a Society was formed for the
Suppression of Virtue. That society was itself
suppressed; but I am sorry to say that another
exists in London, of a character still more
atrocious. In tendency, it may be denominated
a Society for the Encouragement of Murder;
but, according to their own delicate e~ Ytzd6a, ,
it is styled, The Society of Connoisseurs in
Murder. They profess to be curious in homicide; amateurs and dilettanti in the various
modes of bloodshed; and, in short, MurderFatciers. Every fresh atrocity of that class

2

lbuurer as

which the police annals of Europe bring up,
they meet and criticise as they would a picture,
statue, or any other work of art. But I need not
trouble myself with any attempt to describe
the spirit of their proceedings, as the reader
will collect that much better from one of the
Monthly Lectures read before the society last
year. This has fallen into my hands accidentally, in spite of all the vigilance exercised to
keep their transactions from the public eye.
The publication of it will alarm them; and my
purpose is that it should. For I would much
rather put them down quietly, by an appeal to
public opinion, than by such an exposure of
names as would follow an appeal to Bow
Street ; which last appeal, however, if this
should fail, I must really resort to. For my
intense virtue will not put up with such things
in a Christian land. Even in a heathen land,
the toleration of murder-viz., in the dreadful
shows of the amphitheatre-was felt by a Christian writer to be the most crying reproach of
the public morals. This writer was Lactantius;
and with his words, as singularly applicable to
the present occasion, I shall conclude :-" Quid
tam horribile," says he, "tam tetrum, quam
hominis trucidatio? Ideo severissimis legibus
vita nostra munitur; ideo bella execrabilia
sunt. Invenit tamen consuetudo quatenus

SFine Irt

3

homicidium sine bello.ac sine legibus faciat : et
hoc sibi voluptas quod scelus vindicavit. Quod
si interesse homicidio sceleris conscientia est,et eidem facinori spectator obstrictus est cui et
admissor; ergo et in his gladiatorum caedibus
non minus cruore profunditur qui spectat, quam
ille qui facit: nec potest esse immunis A sanguine qui voluit effundi; aut videri non interfecisse, qui interfectori et favit et prcemium
" What is so dreadful," says Lacpostulavit."
tantius, "what so dismal and revolting, as the
murder of a human creature? Therefore it is,
that life for us is protected by laws the most
rigorous: therefore it is that wars are objects
of execration. And yet the traditional usage
of Rome has devised a mode of authorizing
murder apart from war, and in defiance of law
and the demands of taste (voluptas) are now
become the same as those of abandoned guilt."
Let the Society of Gentlemen Amateurs consider this; and let me call their especial attention to the last sentence, which is so weighty
that I shall attempt to convey it in English:
"Now, if merely to be present at a murder
fastens on a man the character of an accomplice;
if barely to be a spectator involves us in one
common guilt with the perpetrator, it follows,
of necessity, that, in these murders of the
amphitheatre, the hand which inflicts the fatal

4

IlBurter as

blow is not more deeply imbrued in blood than
his who passively looks on; neither can he be
clear of blood who has countenanced its shedding; nor that man seem other than a participator in murder who gives his applause to the
murderer, and calls for prizes on his behalf."
The "preamiapostulavil" I have not yet heard
charged upon the Gentlemen Amateurs of
London, though undoubtedly their proceedings
tend to that; but the "interfectori favit" is
implied in the very title of this association, and
expressed in every line of the lecture which
follows.
X. Y. Z.
LECTURE.
GENTLEMEN :-I have had the honor to be
appointed by your committee to the trying task
of reading the Williams' Lecture on Murder,
Considered as One of the Fine Arts; a task
which might have been easy enough three or
four centuries ago, when the art was little understood, and few great models had been exhibited;
but in this age, when masterpieces of excellence
have been executed by professional men, it
must be evident that in the style of criticism
applied to them, the public will look for something of a corresponding improvement. Practice and theory must advance pari passu.

S fine Srt

5

People begin to see that something more goes
to the composition of a fine murder than two
blockheads to kill and be killed-a knife-a
purse-and a dark lane. Design, gentlemen,
grouping, light and shade, poetry, sentiment,
are now deemed indispensable to attempts of
this nature. Mr. Williams has exalted the
ideal of murder to all of us; and to me, therefore, in particular, has deepened the arduousness of my task. Like Zschylus or Milton in
poetry, like Michael Angelo in painting, he
has carried his art to a point of colossal sublimity; and, as Mr. Wordsworth observes, has
in a manner " created the taste by which he is
to be enjoyed." To sketch the history of the
art, and to examine its principles critically, now
remains as a duty for the connoisseur, and for
judges of quite another stamp from his Majesty's
Judges of Assize.
Before I begin let me say a word or two to
certain prigs, who affect to speak of our society
as if it were in some degree immoral in its
tendency. Immoral! Jupiter protect me, gentlemen, what is it that people mean ? I am for
morality, and always shall be, and for virtue,
and all that; and I do affirm, and always shall
(let what will come of it), that murder is an
improper line of conduct, highly improper;
and I do not stick to assert that any man who

6

Iurcber as

deals in murder must have very incorrect ways
of thinking, and truly inaccurate principles;
and so far from aiding and abetting him by
pointing out his victim's hiding-place, as a
great moralist 1 of Germany declared it to be
every good man's duty to do, I would subscribe
one shilling and sixpence to have him apprehended, which is more by eighteen-pence than
the most eminent moralists have hitherto subscribed for that purpose. But what then ?
Every thing in this world has two handles.
Murder, for instance, may be laid hold of by its
moral handle (as it generally is in the pulpit
and at the Old Bailey); and that, I confess, is
its weak side ; or it may also be treated cesthetically, as the Germans call it-that is, in relation
to good taste.
To illustrate this I will urge the authority of
three eminent persons, viz., S. T. Coleridge,
Aristotle, and Mr. Howship, the surgeon. To
begin with S. T. C. One night, many years
ago, I was drinking tea with him in Berners
Street (which, by the way, for a short street,
has been uncommonly fruitful in men of genius).
Others were there besides myself; and, amidst
some carnal considerations of tea and toast, we
were all imbibing a dissertation on Plotinus
from the attic lips of S. T. C. Suddenly a cry
arose of " Fire-fire! " upon which all of us,

SJline Sirt

7

master and disciples, Plato and oi ztepi rrv
1-I'rcocra,rushed out, eager for the spectacle.
The fire was in Oxford Street, at a pianofortemaker's; and, as it promised to be a conflagration of merit, I was sorry that my engagements
forced me away from Mr. Coleridge's party before matters had come to a crisis. Some days
after, meeting with my Platonic host, I reminded him of the case, and begged to know how
that very promising exhibition had terminated.
"Oh, sir," said he, " it turned out so ill that
we damned it unanimously." Now, does any
man suppose that Mr. Coleridge-who, for all
he is too fat to be a person of active virtue, is
undoubtedly a worthy Christian-that this good
S. T. C., I say, was an incendiary, or capable of
wishing any ill to the poor man and his pianofortes (many of them, doubtless, with the additional keys) ? On the contrary, I know him to
be that sort of man, that I durst stake my life
upon it, he would have worked an engine in a
case of necessity, although rather of the fattest
for such fiery trials of his virtue. But how stood
the case ? Virtue was in no request. On the arrival of the fire-engines, morality had devolved
wholly on the insurance office. This being the
case, he had a right to gratify his taste. He had
left his tea. Was he to have nothing in return ?
I contend that the most virtuous man, under

8

fflurer as

the premises stated, was entitled to make a
luxury of the fire, and to hiss it, as he would
any other performance that raised expectations
in the public mind which afterwards it disappointed. Again, to cite another great authority, what says the Stagirite? He (in the Fifth
Book, I think it is, of his "Metaphysics ") describes what he calls X;Uzr7'fv rd tEzor-i. e., a
perfect thief; and as to Mr. Howship, in a work
of his on Indigestion, he makes no scruple to
talk with admiration of a certain ulcer which
he had seen, and which he styles "a beautiful
ulcer." Now, will any man pretend that, abstractedly considered, a thief could appear to
Aristotle a perfect character, or that Mr. Howship could be enamoured of an ulcer ? Aristotle,
it is well known, was himself so very moral a
character that, not content with writing his
" Nichomachdan Ethics," in one volume octavo, he also wrote another system, called " Magna
Moralia," or Big Ethics. Now, it is impossible
that a man who composes any ethics at all, big
or little, should admire a thief fer se; and as to
Mr. Howship, it is well known that he makes
war upon all ulcers, and without suffering him-1
self to be seduced by their charms, endeavors
to banish them from the County of Middlesex.
But the truth is, that, however objectionable
per se, yet, relatively to others of their class,

2

ttne art

9

both a thief and an ulcer may have infinite degrees of merit. They are both imperfections, it
is true; but, to be imperfect being their essence,
the very greatness of their imperfection becomes
their perfection. Sparlam nactus es, hanc exorna. A thief like Autolycus, or the once
famous George Barrington, and a grim phagedcenic ulcer, superbly defined, and running
regularly through all its natural stages, may
no less justly be regarded as ideals after their
kind than the most faultless moss-rose amongst
flowers, in its progress from bud to " bright
consummate flower " ; or, amongst human flowers, the most magnificent young female, apparelled in the pomp of womanhood. And thus
not only the ideal of an inkstand may be imagined (as Mr. Coleridge illustrated in his celebrated correspondence with Mr. Blackwood), in
which, by the way, there is not so much, because
an inkstand is a laudable sort of thing, and a
valuable member of society; but even imperfection itself may have its ideal or perfect state.
Really, gentlemen, I beg pardon for so much
philosophy at one time ; and now let me apply
it. When a murder is in the paulo-post-futurum tense-not done, not even (according to
modern purism) being done, but only going to
be done-and a rumor of it comes to our ears,
by all means let us treat it morally. But sup-

to

ilburber as

pose it over and done, and that you can say of
it, Terai;eeaz, It is finished, or (in that adamantine molussus of Medea) ei)'aCa , Done it
is: it is fail accompli; suppose the poor murdered man to be out of his pain, and the rascal
that did it off like a shot, nobody knows
whither ; suppose, lastly, that we have done our
best, by putting out our legs, to trip up the fellow in his flight, but all to no purpose-" abiit,
evasit, excessit, erupit," etc.,-why, then, I say,
what 's the use of any more virtue? Enough
has been given to morality; now comes the
turn of Taste and the Fine Arts. A sad thing
it was, no doubt, very sad; but we can't mend
it. Therefore let us make the best of a bad
matter; and, as it is impossible to hammer any
thing out of it for moral purposes, let us treat it
sesthetically, and see if it will turn to account
in that way. Such is the logic of a sensible
man, and what follows ? We dry up our tears,
and have the satisfaction, perhaps, to discover
that a transaction, which, morally considered,
was shocking, and without a leg to stand upon,
when tried by principles of Taste, turns out to
be a very meritorious performance. Thus all
the world is pleased ; the old proverb is justified, that it is an ill wind which blows nobody
good; the amateur, from looking bilious and
sulky, by too close attention to virtue, begins

R fine 2Srt

1I

to pick up his crumbs; and general hilarity
prevails. Virtue has had her day; and henceforward, Virtu, so nearly the same thing as to
differ only by a single letter-(which surely is
not worth haggling or higgling about)- Virtu,
I repeat, and Connoisseurship have leave to
provide for themselves. Upon this principle,
gentlemen, I propose to guide your studies,
from Cain to Mr. Thurtell. Through this great
gallery of murder, therefore, together let us
wander hand in hand, in delighted admiration,
while'I endeavor to point your attention to the
objects of profitable criticism.
The first murder is familiar to you all. As the
inventor of murder, and the father of the art,
Cain must have been a man of first-rate genius.
All the Cains were men of genius. Tubal Cain
invented tubes, I think, or some such thing.
But, whatever might be the originality and
genius of the artist, every art was then in its
infancy, and the works must be criticized with
a recollection of that fact. Even Tubal's work
would probably be little approved at this day in
Sheffield; and therefore of Cain (Cain senior, I
mean) it is no disparagement to say, that his
performance was but so-so. Milton, however,
is supposed to have thought differently. By his
way of relating the case, it should seem to have

I2

Mhurber as

been rather a pet murder with him, for he retouches it with an apparent anxiety for its picturesque effect :-" Whereat he inly raged; and, as they talk'd,
Smote him in the midriff with a stone
That beat out life : he fell; and, deadly pale
Groan'd out his soul with gushing blood effused."-" Par. Lost," B. xi.

Upon this, Richardson the painter, who had
an eye for effect, remarks as follows, in his
"Notes on Paradise Lost," p. 497: "It has
been thought," says he, "that Cain beat (as
the common saying is) the breath out of his
brother's body with a great stone; Milton
gives in to this, with the addition, however, of
a large wound." In this place it was a judicious
addition ; for the rudeness of the weapon, unless
raised and enriched by a warm, sanguinary coloring, has too much of the naked air of the savage school; as if the deed were perpetrated by
a Polypheme without science, premeditation, or
any thing but a mutton bone. However, I am
chiefly pleased with the improvement, as it implies that Milton was an amateur. As to Shakespeare, there never was a better; witness his
description of the murdered Duncan, Banquo,
etc.; and, above all, witness his incomparable
miniature, in " Henry VI.," of the murdered
Gloucester ? I

S fine Trt

13

The foundation of the art having been once
laid, it is pitiable to see how it slumbered without improvement for ages. In fact, I shall now
be obliged to leap over all murders, sacred and
profane, as utterly unworthy of notice, until
long after the Christian era. Greece, even in
the age of Pericles, produced no murder, or at
least none is recorded, of the slightest merit;
and Rome had too little originality of genius in
any of the arts to succeed where her model
failed her.3 In fact, the Latin language sinks
under the very idea of murder. " The man was
murdered" ;-how will this sound in Latin?
Interfectus est, interemptus est-which simply
expresses a homicide; and hence the Christian
Latinity of the middle ages was obliged to introduce a new word, such as the feebleness of
classic conceptions never ascended to. 1Iurdratus est, says the sublimer dialect of the Gothic
ages. Meantime, the Jewish school of murder
kept alive whatever was yet known in the art, and
gradually transferred it to the Western World.
Indeed, the Jewish school was always respectable, even in its mediseval stages, as the case of
Hugh of Lincoln shows, which was honored with
the approbation of Chaucer, on occasion of another performance from the same school, which
he puts into the mouth of the Lady Abbess.
Recurring, however, for one moment, to

14

~ftiurOer as

classical antiquity, I cannot but think, that
Catiline, Clodius, and some of that coterie,
would have made first-rate artists; and it is
on all accounts to be regretted, that the priggism of Cicero robbed his country of the only
chance she had for distinction in this line. As
the subject of a murder, no person could have
answered better than himself. Oh, Gemini!
how he would have howled with panic, if he
had heard Cethegus under his bed. It would
have been truly diverting to have listened to
him; and satisfied I am, gentlemen, that he
would have preferred the utile of creeping into
a closet, or even into a cloaca, to the honestum
of facing the bold artist.
To come now to the dark ages (by which we
that speak with precision mean, par excellence,
the tenth century as a meridian line, and the
two centuries immediately before and after, full
midnight being from A.D. 888 to A.D. IIII)these ages ought naturally to be favorable to
the art of murder, as they were to church architecture, to stained glass, etc. ; and, accordingly,
about the latter end of this period, there arose a
great character in our art, I mean the Old Man
of the Mountains. He was a shining light, indeed; and I need not tell you, that the very
word " assassin " is deduced from him. So keen
an amateur was he, that on one occasion, when

14

fine art

i5

his own life was attempted by a favorite assassin, he was so much pleased with the talent
shown, that, notwithstanding the failure of the
artist, he created him a duke upon the spot,
with remainder to the female line, and settled a
pension on him for three lives. Assassination
is a branch of the art which demands a separate
notice; and it is possible that I may devote an
entire lecture to it. Meantime, I shall only observe how odd it is, that this branch of the art
has flourished by intermitting fits. It never
rains, but it pours. Our own age can boast
of some fine specimens, such, for instance, as
Bellingham's affair with the prime-minister Percival, the Duc de Berri's case at the Parisian
Opera House, the Mardchal Bessieres' case at
Avignon; and about two and a half centuries
ago, there was a most brilliant constellation of
murders in this class. I need hardly say, that I
allude especially to those seven splendid works
-the assassinations of William I., of Orange;
of the three French Henries, viz.,-Henri, Duke
of Guise, that had a fancy for the throne of
France; of Henry III., last prince in the line
of Valois, who then occupied that throne; and
finally of Henri IV., his brother-in-law, who
succeeded to that throne as first prince in the
line of Bourbon; not eighteen years later came
the 5th on that roll, viz., that of our Duke of

16

llburber as

Buckingham (which you will find excellently
described in the letters published by Sir Henry
Ellis of the British Museum), 6thly of Gustavus
Adolphus, and 7thly, of Wallenstein. What
a glorious Pleiad of murders ! And it increases
one's admiration-that this bright constellation
of artistic displays, comprehending three Majesties, three Serene Highnesses, and one Excellency, all lay within so narrow a field of time
as between A.D. 1588 and 1635. The King of
Sweden's assassination, by-the-by, is doubted by
many writers, Harte amongst others; but they
are wrong. He was murdered; and I consider
his murder unique in its excellence; for he was
murdered at noon-day, and on the field of battle-a feature of original conception, which
occurs in no other work of art that I remember. To conceive the idea of a secret murder
on private account, as enclosed within a little
parenthesis on a vast stage of public battle-carnage, is like Hamlet's subtle device of a tragedy
within a tragedy. Indeed, all of these assassinations may be studied with profit by the advanced connoisseur.
They are all of them
exemplaria, model murders, pattern murders
of which one may say," Nocturnt versate manu, versate diurna,"

especially nocturnd.

Z

fine Eirt

17

In these assassinations of princes and statesmen there is nothing to excite our wonder;
important changes often depend on their deaths,
and from the eminence on which they stand they
are peculiarly exposed to the aim of every artist who happens to be possessed by the craving
for scenical effect. But there is another class
of assassinations which has prevailed from an
early period of the seventeenth century that
really does surprise me : I mean the assassination of philosophers. For, gentlemen, it is a
fact that every philosopher of eminence for the
two last centuries has either been murdered, or,
at the least, been very near it, insomuch that
if a man calls himself a philosopher, and never
had his life attempted, rest assured there is
nothing in him; and against Locke's philosophy in particular, I think it is an unanswerable
objection (if we needed any) that, although he
carried his throat about with him in this world
for seventy-two years, no man ever condescended to cut it. As these cases of philosophers
are not much known, and are generally good
and well composed in their circumstances, I
shall here read an excursus on that subject,
chiefly by way of showing my own learning.
The first great philosopher of the seventeenth
century (if we except Bacon and Galileo) was
Des Cartes; and if ever one could say of a man

fiNurOer as
that he was all but murdered,-murdered within
an inch,-one must say it of him. The case was
this, as reported by Baillet in his " Vie de M.
Des Cartes," tom. I., pp. 102-3: In the year
1621, when Des Cartes might be about twentysix years old, he was touring about as usual
(for he was as restless as a hyena), and coming
to the Elbe, either at Gluckstadt or at Hamburg,
he took shipping to East Friezland. What he
could want in East Friezland no man has ever
discovered, and perhaps he took this into consideration himself; for, on reaching Embden,
he resolved to sail instantly for West Priezland;
and being very impatient of delay, he hired a
bark, with a few mariners to navigate it. No
sooner had he got out to sea than he made a
pleasing discovery, viz.-that he had shut himself up in a den of murderers. His crew, says
M. Baillet, he soon found out to be " des sc6l6rats," '-not amaleurs,gentlemen, as we are, but
professional men,-the height of whose ambition at that moment was to cut his individual
throat. But the story is too pleasing to be
abridged: I shall give it, therefore, accurately
from the French of his biographer : " M. Des
Cartes had no company but that of his servant,
with whom he was conversing in French. The
sailors, who took him for a foreign merchant
rather than a cavalier, concluded that he must

B ifine EErt

19

have money about him. Accordingly, they
came to a resolution by no means advantageous
to his purse. There is this difference, however,
between sea-robbers and the robbers in forests,
that the latter may, without hazard, spare the
lives of their victims, whereas the others cannot put a passenger on shore in such a case
without running the risk of being apprehended.
The crew of M. Des Cartes arranged their measures with a view to evade any danger of that
sort. They observed that he was a stranger
from a distance, without acquaintance in the
country, and that nobody would take any
trouble to inquire about him in case he should
never come to hand (quandil viendroit a manquer)." Think, gentlemen, of these Priezland
dogs discussing a philosopher as if he were a
puncheon of rum consigned to some shipbroker. "His temper," they remarked, "was
very mild and patient, and judging from the
gentleness of his deportment and the courtesy
with which he treated themselves, that he could
be nothing more than some green young man
without station or root in the world, they concluded that they should have all the easier task
in disposing of his life. They made no scruple
to discuss the whole matter in his presence, as
not supposing that he understood any other language than that in which he conversed with

20

fibutrer as

his servant, and the amount of their deliberation was-to murder him, then to throw him
into the sea, and to divide his spoils."
Excuse my laughing, gentlemen; but the
fact is, I always do laugh when I think of this
case; two things about it seem so droll. One is
the horrid panic or "funk" (as the men of
Eton call it) in which Des Cartes must have
found himself upon hearing this regular drama
sketched for his own death,-funeral,-succession and administration to his effects. But another thing which seems to me more funny
about this affair is, that if these Friezland
hounds had been "game," we should have no
Cartesian philosophy, and how we could have
done without that, considering the world of
books it has produced, I leave to any respectable
trunk-maker to declare.
However, to go on: spite of his enormous
funk, Des Cartes showed fight, and by that
means awed these Anti-Cartesian rascals.
"Finding," says M. Baillet, "that the matter
was no joke, M. Des Cartes leaped upon his
feet in a trice, assumed a stern countenance
that these cravens had never looked for, and,
addressing them in their own language, threatened to run them through on the spot if they
dared to give him any insult." Certainly, gentlemen, this would have been an honor far

R

fine 2itt

21

above the merits of such inconsiderable rascals,
-to be spitted like larks upon a Cartesian
sword; and therefore I am glad M. Des Cartes
did not rob the gallows by executing his threat,
especially as he could not possibly have brought
his vessel to port after he had murdered his
crew; so that he must have continued to cruise
forever in the Zuyder Zee, and would probably
have been mistaken by sailors for the Flying
"The spirit
Dutchman, homeward bound.
which M. Des Cartes manifested," says his biographer, "had the effect of magic on these
wretches. The suddenness of their consternation struck their minds with a confusion which
blinded them to their advantage, and they conveyed him to his destination as peaceably as he
could desire."
Possibly, gentlemen, you may fancy that, on
the model of Caesar's address to his poor ferryman,-" Ccesarem vehis et fortunas ejus"-M.
Des Cartes needed only to have said: "Dogs,
you cannot cut my throat, for you carry Des
Cartes and his philosophy," and might safely
have defied them to do their worst. A German
emperor had the same notion, when, being cautioned to keep out of the way of a cannonading, he replied: "Tut! man. Did you ever
hear of a cannon-ball that killed an emperor? " 4
As to an emperor, I cannot say, but a less thing

22

fiur0er a s

has sufficed to smash a philosopher, and the
next great philosopher of Europe undoubtedly
was murdered. This was Spinosa.
I know very well the common opinion about
him is, that he died in his bed. Perhaps he
did, but he was murdered for all that; and this
I shall prove by a book published at Brussels
in the year 1731, entitled " La Vie de Spinosa,
par M. Jean Colerus, with many additions,
from a MS. life, by one of his friends." Spinosa
died on the 21st of February, 1677, being then
little more than forty-four years old. This, of
itself, looks suspicious; and M. Jean admits,
that a certain expression in the MS. life of him
would warrant the conclusion, "que sa mort
n'a dti-A-fait naturelle." Living in a damp
country, and a sailor's country, like Holland,
he may be thought to have indulged a good
deal in grog, especially in punch,5 which was
then newly discovered. Undoubtedly he might
have done so; but the fact is, that he did not.
M. Jean calls him " extremement sobre en son
boire et en son manger." And though some
wild stories were afloat about his using the
juice of mandragora (p. 140) and opium (p. 144),
yet neither of these articles is found in his
druggist's bill. Living, therefore, with such
sobriety, how was it possible that he should die
a natural death at forty-four ? Hear his biogra-

t fine

dttt

23

pher's account :-" Sunday morning, the 21st
of February, before it was church time, Spinosa
came down stairs, and conversed with the
master and mistress of the house." At this time,
therefore, perhaps ten o'clock on Sunday morning, you see that Spinosa was alive and pretty
well. But it seems "he had summoned from
Amsterdam a certain physician, whom," says
the biographer, "I shall not otherwise point
out to notice than by these two letters, L. M."
This L. M. had directed the people of the house
to purchase "an ancient cock," and to have
him boiled forthwith, in order that Spinosa
might take some broth about noon; which in
fact he did, and ate some of the old cock with a
good appetite, after the landlord and his wife
had returned from church.
"In the afternoon, L. M. staid alone with
Spinosa, the people of the house having returned to church; on coming out from which,
they learned, with much surprise, that Spinosa
had died about three o'clock, in the presence
of L. M., who took his departure for Amsterdam that same evening, by the night-boat,
without paying the least attention to the deceased," and probably without paying very
much attention to the payment of his own little
account. " No doubt he was the readier to dispense with these duties, as he had possessed

24

Ilur'ber a

himself of a ducatoon, and a small quantity of
silver, together with a silver-hafted knife, and
had absconded with his pillage." Here you
see, gentlemen, the murder is plain, and the
manner of it.
It was L. M. who murdered
Spinosa for his money. Poor Spinosa was an
invalid, meagre and weak: as no blood was
observed, L. M. no doubt threw him down and
smothered him with pillows-the poor man being already half suffocated by his infernal dinner. After masticating that "ancient cock,"
which I take to mean a cock of the preceding
century, in what condition could the poor invalid find himself for a stand-up fight with
L. M. ? But who was L. M. ? It surely never
could be Lindley Murray, for I saw him at
York in 1825; and, besides, I do not think he
would do such a thing-at least, not to a
brother grammarian: for you know, gentlemen,
that Spinosa wrote a very respectable Hebrew
grammar.
Hobbes-but why, or on what principle, I
never could understand-was not murdered.
This was a capital oversight of the professional
men of the seventeenth century; because in
every light he was a fine subject for murder,
except, indeed, that he was lean and skinny;
for I can prove that he had money, and (what
is very funny) he had no right to make the

21 fine DBrt

25

least resistance; since, according to himself,
irresistible power creates the very highest species of right, so that it is rebellion of the blackest dye to refuse to be murdered, when a competent force appears to murder you. However,
gentlemen, though he was not murdered, I am
happy to assure you that (by his own account)
he was three times very near being murdered,
which is consolatory. The first time was in the
spring of 1640, when he pretends to have circulated a little MS. on the king's behalf against
the Parliament; he never could produce this
MS., by the by; but he says that, " Had not His
Majesty dissolved the Parliament " (in May),
"it had brought him into danger of his life."
Dissolving the Parliament, however, was of no
use; for in November of the same year the
Long Parliament assembled, and Hobbes, a
second time fearing he should be murdered,
ran away to France. This looks like the madness of John Dennis, who thought that Louis
XIV. would never make peace with Queen
Anne, unless he (Dennis, to wit) were given up
to French vengeance; and actually ran away
from the seacoast under that belief.
In
France, Hobbes managed to take care of his
throat pretty well for ten years; but at the
end of that time, by way of paying court to
Cromwell, he published his " Leviathan." The

26

IBurter ae

old coward now began to "funk " horribly for
the third time; he fancied the swords of the
cavaliers were constantly at his throat, recollecting how they had served the Parliament
ambassadors at the Hague and Madrid.
" Tum," says he, in his dog-Latin life of himself,
" Tum venit in mentem mihi Dorislaus et Ascham ;
Tanquam proscripto terror ubique aderat."

And accordingly he ran home to England.
Now, certainly, it is very true that a man deserved a cudgelling for writing " Leviathan " ;
and two or three cudgellings for writing a pentameter ending so villainously as "terror ubique
aderat " ! But no man ever thought him
worthy of any thing beyond cudgelling. And,
in fact, the whole story is a bounce of his own.
For, in a most abusive letter which he wrote
"to a learned person " (meaning Wallace the
mathematician), he gives quite another account
of the matter, and says (p. 8), he ran home
" because he would not trust his safety with the
French clergy"; insinuating that he was likely
to be murdered for his religion, which would
have been a high joke indeed-Tom's being
brought to the stake for religion.
Bounce or not bounce, however, certain it is
that Hobbes, to the end of his life, feared that

Sgfine

rt

27

somebody would murder him. This is proved
by the story I am going to tell you: it is not
from a manuscript, but (as Mr. Coleridge says)
it is as good as manuscript; for it comes from a
book now entirely forgotten, viz., "The Creed
of Mr. Hobbes Examined : in a Conference between Him and a Student in Divinity " (published about ten years before Hobbes' death).
The book is anonymous, but it was written by
Tennison, the same who, about thirty years
after, succeeded Tillotson as Archbishop of
Canterbury. The introductory anecdote is as
follows: "A certain divine" (no doubt Tennisonhimself) " tookan annual tour of one month
to different parts of the island." In one of
these excursions (1670), he visited the Peak in
Derbyshire, partly in consequence of Hobbes'
description of it. Being in that neighborhood,
he could not but pay a visit to Buxton; and at
the very moment of his arrival, he was fortunate enough to find a party of gentlemen
dismounting at the inn door, amongst whom
was a long thin fellow, who turned out to be no
less a person than Mr. Hobbes, who probably
had ridden over from Chatsworth.' Meeting so
great a lion, a tourist, in search of the picturesque, could do no less than present himself in
the character of bore. And luckily for this
scheme, two of Mr. Hobbes' companions were

28

suddenly summoned away by express; so that,
for the rest of his stay at Buxton, he had
Leviathan entirely to himself, and had the
honor of bowsing with him in the evening.
Hobbes, it seems, at first showed a good deal of
stiffness, for he was shy of divines; but this
wore off, "and he became very sociable and
funny, and they agreed to go into the bath
together. How Tennison could venture to
gambol in the same water with Leviathan, I
cannot explain; but so it was: they frolicked
about like two dolphins, though Hobbes must
have been as old as the hills; and " in those intervals wherein they abstained from swimming
and plunging themselves " (i. e., diving), " they
discoursed of many things relating to the Baths
of the Ancients, and the Origine of Springs.
When they had in this manner passed away an
hour, they stepped out of the bath ; and, having
dried and cloathed themselves, they sate down
in expectation of such a supper as the place
afforded; designing to refresh themselves like
the Deinosophist, and rather to reason than
to drink profoundly. But in this innocent intention they were interrupted by the disturbance
arising from a little quarrel, in which some of
the ruder people in the house were for a short
time engaged. At this Mr. Hobbes seemed
much concerned, though he was at some dis-

1 fine 2rt

29

tance from the persons." And why was he
concerned, gentlemen? No doubt, you fancy,
froi some benign and disinterested love of
peace worthy of an old man and a philosopher.
But listen : " For a while he was not composed,
but related it once or twice as to himself, with a
low and careful, (i. e. anxious), tone, how Sextus
Roscius was murthered after supper by the
Balnee Palatine. Of such general extent is
that remark of Cicero, in relation to Epicurus
the Atheist, of whom he observed, that he of all
men dreaded most those things which he contemned-Death and the Gods." Merely because
it was supper-time, and in the neighborhood of
a bath, Mr. Hobbes must have the fate of Sextus Roscius. He must be murikered, because
Sextus Roscius was murthered. What logic was
there in this, unless to a man who was always
dreaming of murder? Here was Leviathan, no
longer afraid of the daggers of English cavaliers
or French clergy but 'frightened from his propriety' by a row in an ale-house between some
honest clodhoppers of Derbyshire, whom his
own gaunt scarecrow of a person, that belonged
to quite another century, would have frightened
out of their wits.
Malebranche, it will give you pleasure to
hear, was murdered. The man who murdered
him is well known: it was Bishop Berkeley.

30

Abur'er as

The story is fa&niliar, though hitherto not put in
a proper light. Berkeley, when a young man,
went to Paris, and called on Pare Malebranche.
He found him in his cell cooking. Cooks have
ever been a genus irritabile;authors still more
so. Malebranche was both. A dispute arose:
the old father, warm already, became warmer ;
culinary and metaphysical irritations united to
derange his liver; he took to his bed and died.
Such is the common version of the story. " So
the whole ear of Denmark is abused." The fact
is, that the matter was hushed up, out of consideration for Berkeley, who (as Pope justly
observes) had "every virtue under heaven ";
else it was well known that Berkeley, feeling
himself nettled by the waspishness of the old
Frenchman, squared at him; a turn-up was the
consequence; Malebranche was floore4 iftr the
first round; the conceit was wholly taken out of
him, and he would perhaps have given in; but
Berkeley's blood was now up, and he insisted on
the old Frenchman's retracting his doctrine of
Occasional Causes. The vanity of the man was
too great for this; and he fell a sacrifice to the
impetuosity of Irish youth, combined with his
own absurd obstinacy.
Leibnitz, being every way superior to Malebranche, one might, afortiori,have counted on
his being murdered; which, however, was not

S ine Tart

3a

the case. I believe he was nettled at this neglect, and felt himself insulted by the security in
which he passed his days. In no other way can
I explain his conduct at the latter end of his
life, when he chose to grow very avaricious, and
to hoard up large sums of gold, which he kept
in his own house. This was at Vienna. where
he died; and letters are still in existence,
describing the immeasurable anxiety which he
entertained for his throat. Still his ambition,
for being attempted at least, was so great, that
he would not forego the danger. A late English pedagogue, of Birmingham manufactureviz., Dr. Parr-took a more selfish course under
the same circumstance. He had amassed a
considerable quantity of gold and silver plate,
which was for some time deposited in his bedroom at his parsonage house, Hatton. But
growing every day more afraid of being murdered, which he knew that he could not stand
(and to which, indeed, he never had the
slightest pretensions), he transferred the whole
to the Hatton blacksmith; conceiving, no
doubt, that the murder of a blacksmith would
fall more lightly on the salus reipublice,than
that of a pedagogue. But I have heard this
greatly disputed; and it seems now generally
agreed, that one good horseshoe is worth about
two and a quarter Spital sermons.'

32

Mfl3urbet: ag

As Leibnitz, though not murdered, may be
said to have died, partly of the fear that he
should be murdered, and partly of vexation that
he was not, Kant, on the other hand-who
manifested no ambition in that way-had a
narrower escape from a murderer than any man
we read of, except Des Cartes. So absurdly
does fortune throw about her favors ! The case
is told, I think, in an anonymous life of this
very great man. For health's sake, Kant imposed
upon himself, at one time, a walk of six miles
every day along a high-road. This fact becoming known to a man who had his private reasons
for committing murder, at the third mile-stone
from K6nigsberg he waited for his " intended,"
who came up to time as duly as a mail-coach.
But for an accident, Kant was a dead man.
This accident lay in the scrupulous, or what
Mrs. Quickly would have called the peevish,
morality of the murderer. An old professor, he
fancied, might be laden with sins. Not so a
young child. On this consideration he turned
away from Kant at the critical moment, and
soon after murdered a child of five years old.
Such is the German account of the matter; but
my opinion is that the murderer was an amateur, who felt how little would be gained to the
cause of good taste by murdering an old, arid,
and adust metaphysician; there was no room

A Sine Bt

33

for display, as the man could not possibly look
more like a mummy when dead, than he had
done alive.
Thus, gentlemen, I have traced the connection between philosophy and our art, until,
insensibly, I find that I have wandered into our
own era. This I shall not take any pains to
characterize apart from that which preceded it,
for, in fact, they have no distinct character.
The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
together with so much of the nineteenth as we
have yet seen, jointly compose the Augustan
age of murder. The finest work of the seventeenth century is, unquestionably, the murder of
Sir Edmondbury Godfrey, which has my entire
approbation. In the grand feature of mystery,
which in some shape or other ought to color
every judicious attempt at murder, it is excellent; for the mystery is not yet dispersed. The
attempt to fasten the murder upon the Papists,
which would injure it as much as some wellknown Correggios have been injured by the
professional picture-cleaners, or would even
ruin it by translating it into the spurious class
of mere political or partisan murders, thoroughly
wanting in the murderous animus, I exhort the
society to discountenance. In fact, this notion
is altogether baseless, and arose in pure Prot-

34

Iburber as

estant fanaticism. Sir Edmondbury had not
distinguished himself amongst the London
magistrates by any severity against the Papists,
or in favoring the attempts of zealots to enforce
the penal laws against individuals. He had
not armed against himself the animosities of
any religious sect whatever. And as to the
droppings of waxlights upon the dress of the
corpse when first discovered in a ditch, from
which it was inferred at the time that the
priests attached to the Popish Queen's Chapel
had been concerned in the murder, either these
were mere fraudulent artifices devised by those
who wished to fix the suspicion upon the
Papists, or else the whole allegation-waxdroppings, and the suggested cause of the droppings-might be a bounce or fib of Bishop
Burnet, who, as the Dutchess of Portsmouth
used to say, was the one great master of fibbing
and romancing in the seventeenth century. At
the same time, it must be observed that the
quantity of murder was not great in Sir Edmondbury's century, at least amongst our own
artists; which, perhaps, is attributable to the
want of enlightened patronage. Sint Mcenates,
non deerunt, Flacce, Marones. Consulting
Grant's "Observations on the Bills of Mortality" (fourth edition, Oxford, 1665), I find
that, out of 229,250 who died in London during

R fftne Zilrt

35

one period of twenty years in the seventeenth
century, not more than eighty-six were murdered; that is, about four three-tenths per
rannum.
A small number this, gentlemen,
to found an academy upon; and certainly,
where the quantity is so small, we have a right
to expect that the quality should be first-rate.
Perhaps it was; yet still I am of opinion that
the best artist in this century was not equal to
the best in that which followed. For instance,
however praiseworthy the case of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey may be (and nobody can be more
sensible of its merits than I am), still, I cannot
consent to place it on a level with that of Mrs.
Ruscombe of Bristol, either as to originality of
design, or boldness and breadth of style. This
good lady's murder took place early in the
reign of George III.-a reign which was notoriously favorable to the arts generally. She
lived in College Green, with a single maidservant, neither of them having any pretension
to the notice of history but what they derived
from the great artist whose workmanship I am
recording. One fine morning, when all Bristol
was alive and in motion, some suspicion arising, the neighbors forced an entrance into the
house, and found Mrs. Ruscombe murdered in
her bedroom, and the servant murdered on the
stairs. This was at noon; and, not more than

36

.Hiurcr as

two hours before, both mistress and servant had
been seen alive. To the best of my remembrance, this was in 1764; upwards of sixty
years, therefore, have now elapsed, and yet the
artist is still undiscovered. The suspicions of
posterity have settled upon two pretenders-a
baker and a chimney-sweeper. But posterity is
wrong; no unpractised artist could have conceived so bold an idea as that of a noonday
murder in the heart of a great city. It was no
obscure baker, gentlemen, or anonymous chimney-sweeper, be assured, that executed this
work. I know who it was. (Here there was a
general buzz, which at length broke out into
open applause; upon which the lecturerblushed,
and went on with much earnestness.) For
Heaven's sake, gentlemen, do not mistake me ;
it was not I that did it. I have not the vanity
to think myself equal to any such achievement;
be assured that you greatly overrate my poor
talents; Mrs. Ruscombe's affair was far beyond
my slender abilities. But I came to know who
the artist was from a celebrated surgeon who
assisted at his dissection. This gentleman had
a private museum in the way of his profession,
one corner of which was occupied by a cast
from a man of remarkably fine proportions.
"That," said the surgeon, "is a cast from the
celebrated Lancashire highwayman, who con-

3 fine Strt

3,

cealed his profession for some time from his
neighbors by drawing woollen stockings over
his horse's legs, and in that way muffling the
clatter which he must else have made in riding
up a flagged alley that led to his stable. At the
time of his execution for highway robbery, I
was studying under Cruikshank: and the
man's figure was so uncommonly fine that no
money or exertion was spared to get into possession of him with the least possible delay.
By the connivance of the under-sheriff, he was
cut down within the legal time, and instantly
put into a chaise-and-four; so that, when he
reached Cruikshank's, he was positively not
dead. Mr. -, a young student at that time,
had the honor of giving him the coup de grace,
and finishing the sentence of the law." This
remarkable anecdote, which seemed to imply
that all the gentlemen in the dissecting-room
were amateurs of our class, struck me a good
deal; and I was repeating it one day to a Lancashire lady, who thereupon informed me that
she had herself lived in the neighborhood of
that highwayman, and well remembered two
circumstances which combined, in the opinion
of all his neighbors, to fix upon him the credit
of Mrs. Ruscombe's affair. One was, the fact
of his absence for a whole fortnight at the
period of that murder; the other, that, within

-o

ilburber as

a very little time after, the neighborhood of
this highwayman was deluged with dollars.
Now, Mrs. Ruscombe was known to have*
hoarded about two thousand of that coin. Be
the artist, however, who he might, the affair
remains a durable monument of his genius; for
such was the impression of awe, and the sense
of power left behind, by the strength of conception manifested in this murder, that no tenant
(as I was told in 18io) had been found up to
that time for Mrs. Ruscombe's house.
But, whilst I thus eulogize the Ruscombian
case, let me not be supposed to overlook
the many other specimens of extraordinary
merit spread over the face of this century.
Such cases, indeed, as that of Miss Bland, or
of Captain Donnellan, and Sir Theophilus
Boughton, shall never have any countenance
from me. Fie on these dealers in poison! say
I; can they not keep to the old honest way of
cutting throats, without introducing such abominable innovations from Italy ? I consider all
these poisoning cases, compared with the legitimate style, as no better than waxwork by the
side of sculpture, or a lithographic print by the
side of a fine Volpato. But, dismissing these,
there remain many excellent works of art in a
pure style, such as nobody need be ashamed to
own ; and this every candid connoisseur will ad-

S fine Brt

39

mit. Candid,observe, I say; for great allowances
must be made in these cases ; no artist can ever
be sure of carrying through his own fine preconception. Awkward disturbances will arise;
people will not submit to have their throats cut
quietly; they will run, they will kick, they
will bite; and whilst the portrait-painter often
has to complain of too much torpor in his subject, the artist in our line is generally embarrassed by too much animation. At the same
time, however disagreeable to the artist, this
tendency in murder to excite and irritate the
subject is certainly one of its advantages to the
world in general, which we ought not to overlook, since it favors the development of latent
talent. Jeremy Taylor notices with admiration
the extraordinary leaps which people will take
under the influence of fear. There was a striking instance of this in the recent case of the
M'Keans: the boy cleared a height, such as he
will never clear again to his dying day. Talents
also of the most brilliant description for thumping, and, indeed, for all the gymnastic exercises,
have sometimes been developed by the panic
which accompanies our artists; talents else
buried and hid under a bushel, to the possessors
as much as to their friends. I remember an
interesting illustration of this fact, in a case
which I learned in Germany.

40

,Aiurber as

Riding one day in the neighborhood of
Munich, I overtook a distinguished amateur of
our society, whose name, for obvious reasons, I
shall conceal. This gentleman informed me
that, finding himself wearied with the frigid
pleasures (such he esteemed them) of mere
amateurship, he had quitted England for the
Continent-meaning to practise a little professionally. For this purpose he resorted to
Germany, conceiving the police in that part of
Europe to be more heavy and drowsy than elsewhere. His dMbut as a practitioner took place
at Mannheim ; and, knowing me to be a brother
amateur, he freely communicated the whole of
his maiden adventure.
"Opposite to my lodging," said he, "lived
a baker; he was somewhat of a miser and
lived quite alone. Whether it were his great
expanse of chalky face, or what else, I know
not, but the fact was, I 'fancied' him, and
resolved to commence business upon his
throat, which, by the way, he always carried
bare-a fashion which is very irritating to my
desires. Precisely at eight o'clock in the evening, I observed that he regularly shut up his
windows. One night I watched him when thus
engaged-bolted in after him-locked the door
-and,
addressing him with great suavity,
acquainted him with the nature of my errand;

Sfitne 1rt

41

at the same time advising him to make no
resistance, which would be mutually unpleasant. So saying, I drew out my tools, and was
proceeding to operate; but at this spectacle
the baker, who seemed to have been struck by
catalepsy at my first announcement, awoke into
tremendous agitation.
'I will not be murdered !' he shrieked aloud; 'what for will I'
(meaning shall I) 'lose my precious throat ?'
'What for?' said I; 'if for no other reason,
for this-that you put alum into your bread.
But no matter, alum or no alum' (for I was resolved to forestall any argument on that point),
'know that I am a virtuoso in the art of murder
-am desirous of improving myself in its details
-and am enamored of your vast surface of
throat, to which I am determined to be a customer.' 'Is it so ? ' said he, 'but I '11 find you a
customer in another line'; and so saying, he
threw himself into a boxing attitude. The very
idea of his boxing struck me as ludicrous. It is
true, a London baker had distinguished himself
in the ring, and became known to fame under
the title of the Master of the Rolls ; but he was
young and unspoiled; whereas, this man was a
monstrous feather-bed in person, fifty years old,
and totally out of condition. Spite of all this,
however, and contending against me, who am a
master in the art, he made so desperate a de-

42

lurbher

as

fence, that many times I feared he might turn
the tables upon me; and that I, an amateur,
might be murdered by a rascally baker. What a
situation! Minds of sensibility will sympathize
with my anxiety. How severe it was, you may
understand by this, that for the first thirteen
rounds the baker positively had the advantage.
Round the 14th, I received a blow on the right
eye, which closed it up. In the end, I believe,
this was my salvation ; for the anger it roused
in me was so great that, in the next, and every
one of the three following rounds, I floored the
baker.
" Round 19th. The baker came up piping, and
manifestly the worse for wear. His geometrical exploits in the four last rounds had done
him no good. However, he showed some skill
in stopping a message which I was sending to
his cadaverous mug; in delivering which, my
foot slipped, and I went down.
"Round 20oth. Surveying the baker, I became ashamed of having been so much bothered
by a shapeless mass of dough; and I went
in fiercely, and administered some severe punishment. A rally took place-both went down
-baker undermost-ten to three on amateur.
"Round 21st. The baker jumped up with
surprising agility ; indeed, he managed his pins
capitally, and fought wonderfully, considering

21 Ine td

43

that he was drenched in perspiration; but the
shine was now taken out of him, and his game
was the mere effect of panic. It was now clear
that he could not last much longer. In the
course of this round we tried the weaving system, in which I had greatly the advantage, and
hit him repeatedly on the conk. My reason
for this was, that his conk was covered with
carbuncles ; and I thought I should vex him by
taking such liberties with his conk, which in
fact I did.
"The three next rounds, the master of the
rolls staggered about like a cow on the ice.
Seeing how matters stood, in round 24th I
whispered something into his ear, which sent
him down like a shot. It was nothing more
than my private opinion of the value of his
throat at an annuity office. This little confidential whisper affected him greatly; the very
perspiration was frozen on his face, and for the
next two rounds I had it all my own way. And
when I called time for the 27th round, he lay
like a log on the floor."
After which, said I to the amateur, " It may
be presumed that you accomplished your purpose." " You are right," said he mildly, "I
did; and a great satisfaction, you know, it was
to my mind, for by this means I killed two
birds with one stone "; meaning that he had

44

Iurcber as

both thumped the baker and murdered him.
Now, for the life of me, I could not see that;
for, on the contrary, to my mind it appeared
that he had taken two stones to kill one bird,
having been obliged to take the conceit out of
him first with his fist, and then with his tools.
But no matter for his logic. The moral of his
story was good, for it showed what an astonishing stimulus to latent talent is contained in any
reasonable prospect of being murdered.
A
pursy, unwieldy, half cataleptic baker of Mannheim had absolutely fought seven-and-twenty
rounds with an accomplished English boxer,
merely upon this inspiration; so great was
natural genius exalted and sublimed by the
genial presence of his murderer.
Really, gentlemen, when one hears of such
things as these, it becomes a duty, perhaps, a
little to soften that extreme asperity with which
most men speak of murder. To hear people
talk, you would suppose that all the disadvantages and inconveniences were on the side of
being murdered, and that there were none at all
in not being murdered. But considerate men
think otherwise.
" Certainly," says Jeremy
Taylor, "it is a less temporal evil to fall by the
rudeness of a sword than the violence of a
fever: and the axe " (to which he might have
added the ship-carpenter's mallet and the crow-

S

$fine Ert

45

bar), " a much less affliction than a strangury."
Very true ; the bishop talks like a wise man and
an amateur, as I am sure he was ; and another
great philosopher, Marcus Aurelius, was equally
above the vulgar prejudices on this subject. He
declares it to be one of " the noblest functions
of reason to know whether it is time to walk out
of the world or not." (Book iii., Coller's Translation.) No sort of knowledge being rarer than
this, surely that man must be a most philanthropic character, who undertakes to instruct
people in this branch of knowledge gratis, and
at no little hazard to himself. All this, however, I throw out only in the way of speculation
to future moralists ; declaring in the meantime
my own private conviction, that very few men
commit murder upon philanthropic or patriotic
principles, and repeating what I have already
said once at least-that, as to the majority of
murderers, they are very incorrect characters.
With respect to the Williams' murders, the
sublimest and most entire in their excellence
that ever were committed, I shall not allow
myself to speak incidentally. Nothing less
than an entire lecture, or even an entire cburse
of lectures, would suffice to expound their
merits. But one curious fact connected with
his case I shall mention, because it seems to
imply that the blaze of his genius absolutely

46

lburber as

dazzled the eye of criminal justice. You all
remember, I doubt not, that the instruments
with which he executed his first great work
(the murder of the Marrs) were a ship-carpenNow, the mallet
ter's mallet and a knife.
belonged to an old Swede, one John Peterson,
and bore his initials. This instrument Williams
left behind him in Marr's house, and it fell into
the hands of the magistrates. But, gentlemen,
it is a fact that the publication of this circumstance of the initials led immediately to the
apprehension of Williams, and, if made earlier,
would have prevented his second great work
(the murder of the Williamsons), which took
place precisely twelve days after. Yet the
magistrates kept back this fact from the public for the entire twelve days, and until that
second work was accomplished. That finished,
they published it, apparently feeling that Williams had now done enough for his fame, and
that his glory was at length placed beyond the
reach of accident.
As to Mr. Thurtell's case, I know not what to
say. Naturally, I have every disposition to
think' highly of my predecessor in the chair of
this society; and I acknowledge that his lecBut, speaking
tures were unexceptionable.
ingenuously, I do really think that his principal performance, as an artist, has been much

~2 tne

rt

47

overrated. I admit, that at first, I was myself
carried away by the general enthusiasm. On
the morning when the murder was made known
in London, there was the fullest meeting of
amateurs that I have ever known since the days
of Williams ; old bedridden connoisseurs, who
had got into a peevish way of sneering and
complaining " that there was nothing doing,"
now hobbled down to our club-room: such
hilarity, such benign expression of general
satisfaction, I have rarely witnessed.
On
every side you saw people shaking hands,
congratulating each other, and forming dinner
parties for the evening; and nothing was to be
heard but triumphant challenges of-" Well!
will this do? " " Is this the right thing ? "
" Are you satisfied at last? " But in the middle of the row, I remember, we all grew silent,
on hearing the old cynical amateur L. Sstumping along with his wooden leg; he entered the room with his usual scowl; and, as
he advanced, he continued to growl and stutter
the whole way-" Mere plagiarism-base plagiarism from hints that I threw out! Besides,
his style is as harsh as Albert Durer, and as
coarse as Fuseli." Many thought that this was
mere jealousy, and general waspishness, but I
confess that, when the first glow of enthusiasm
had subsided, I have found most judicious

48

Iffiur'cr as

critics to agree that there was something falsello in the style of Thurtell. The fact is, he
was a member of our society, which naturally
gave a friendly bias to our judgments; and his
person was universally familiar to the "fancy,"
which gave him, with the whole London public,
a temporary popularity, that his pretensions are
not capable of supporting; for opinionem cornmenta delet dies, naluree judicia confirmat.
There was, however, an unfinished design of
Thurtell's for the murder of a man with a pair
of dumb-bells, which I admired greatly ; it was
a mere outline, that he never filled in; but to
my mind it seemed every way superior to his
chief work. I remember that there was great
regret expressed by some amateurs that this
sketch should have been left in an unfinished
state : but there I cannot agree with them ; for
the fragments and first bold outlines of original
artists have often a felicity about them which is
apt to vanish in the management of the details.
The case of the M'Keans I consider far beyond
the vaunted performance of Thurtell-indeed,
above all praise; and bearing that relation, in
fact, to the immortal works of Williams, which
the " Eneid " bears to the " Iliad."
But it is now time that I should say a few
words about the principles of murder, not with
a view to regulate your practice, but your judg-

R fine SErt

49

ment: as to old women, and the mob of newspaper readers, they are pleased with any thing,
provided it is bloody enough, but the mind of
sensibility requires something more.
First,
then, let us speak of the kind of person who
is adapted to the purpose of the murderer; secondly, of the place where; thirdly, of the time
when, and other little circumstances.
As to the person, I suppose that it is evident
that he ought to be a good man; because, if
he were not, he might himself, by possibility,
be contemplating murder at the very time; and
such " diamond-cut-diamond " tussles, though
pleasant enough where nothing better is stirring, are really not what a critic can allow himself to call murders. I could mention some
people (I name no names) who have been
murdered by other people in a dark lane; and
so far all seemed correct enough; but on looking farther into the matter, the public have
become aware that the murdered party was
himself, at the moment planning to rob his
murderer, at the least, and possibly to murder
him, if he had been strong enough. Whenever
that is the case, or may be thought to be the
case, farewell to all the genuine effects of the
art. For the final purpose of murder, considered as a fine art, is precisely the same as that
of tragedy, in Aristotle's account of it: viz.,

50

Alburber as

" to cleanse the heart by means of pity and
terror." Now, terror there may be, but how
can there be any pity for one tiger destroyed
by another tiger ?
It is also evident that the person selected
ought not to be a public character. For instance, no judicious artist would have attempts
ed to murder Abraham Newland. For the case
was this: everybody read so much about Abraham Newland, and so few people ever saw him,
that to the general belief he was a mere abstract
idea. And I remember, that once, when I happened to mention that I had dined at a coffeehouse in company with Abraham Newland,
everybody looked scornfully at me, as though
I had pretended to have played at billiards with
Prester John, or to have had an affair of honor
with the Pope. And, by the way, the Pope
would be a very improper person to murder;
for he has such a virtual ubiquity as the father
of Christendom, and, like the cuckoo, is so often
heard but never seen, that I suspect most people regard him also as an abstract idea. Where,
indeed, a public man is in the habit of giving
dinners, "with every delicacy of the season,"
the case is very different : every person is satisfied that he is no abstract idea; and, therefore,
there can be no impropriety in murdering
him, only that his murder will fall into the

S$fine trt

51

class of assassinations, which I have not yet
treated.
Thirdly. The subject chosen ought to be in
good health: for it is absolutely barbarous to
murder a sick person, who is usually quite unable
to bear it. On this principle, no tailor ought to
be chosen who is above twenty-five, for after
that age he is sure to be dyspeptic. Or at least,
if a man will hunt in that warren, he will of
course think it his duty, on the old established
equation, to murder some multiple of 9-say 18,
27, or 36. And here, in this benign attention
to the comfort of sick people, you will observe
the usual effect of a fine art to soften and refine
the feelings. The world in general, gentlemen,
are very bloody-minded; and all they want in a
murder is a copious effusion of blood; gaudy
display in this point is enough for them. But
the enlightened connoisseur is more refined in
his taste; and from our art, as from all the
other liberal arts when thoroughly mastered,
the result is, to humanize the heart; so true
is it, that
" Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes,

Emolliet mores, nec sinit esse feros."
A philosophic friend, well known for his philanthropy and general benignity, suggests that
the subject chosen ought also to have a family
of young children wholly dependent upon his

52

Afurber as

exertions, by way of deepening the pathos.
And, undoubtedly, this is a judicious caution.
Yet I would not insist too keenly on such al
condition. Severe good taste t nquestionably
suggests it; but still, where The man was
otherwise unobjectionable in point of morals
and health, I would not look with too curious
a jealousy to a restriction which might have
the effect of narrowing the artist's sphere.
So much for the person. As to the time, the.
place, the tools, I have many things to say,
which at present I have no room for. The good
sense of the practitioner has usually directed
him to night and privacy. Yet there have not
been wanting cases where this rule was departed
from with excellent effect. In respect to time,
Mrs. Ruscombe's case is a beautiful exception,
which I have already noticed; and in respect
both to time and place, there is a fine exception
in the annals of Edinburgh (year 1805), familiar
to every child in Edinburgh, but which has unaccountably been defrauded of its due portion
of fame amongst English amateurs. The case
I mean is that of a porter to one of the banks,
who was murdered, whilst carrying a bag of
money, in broad daylight, on turning out of the
High Street, one of the most public streets in
Europe; and the murderer is to this hour undiscovered.

T fine Brt

53

" Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus,
Singula dum capti circumvectamur amore."

And now, gentlemen, in conclusion, let me
again solemnly disclaim all pretensions on my
own part to the character of a professional man.
I never attempted any murder in my life, except in the year 18oi, upon the body of a tomat ; and that turned out differently from my
intention. My purpose, I own, was down-right
niurder. " Semper ego auditor tantum ? " said
I, "nunquamne reponam? " And I went down
Stairs in search of Tom at one o'clock on a dark
tiight, with the " animus," and no doubt with
the fiendish looks, of a murderer. But when I
foiund him, he was in the act of plundering the
pantry of bread and other things. Now this
gave a new turn to the affair; for the time
being one of general scarcity, when even Christians were reduced to the use of potato-bread,
rice-bread, and all sorts of things, it was down-right treason in a tom-cat to be wasting good
wheaten-bread in the way he was doing. It
instantly became a patriotic duty to put him to
death; and, as I raised aloft and shook the glittering steel, I fancied myself rising, like Brutus,
vffalgent from a crowd of patriots, and as I
s tabbed him, I
" Called aloud on Tully's name,
And bade the father of his country hail

1"

54

lBRurOer

as a Sine 2irt

Since then, what wandering thoughts I may
have had of attempting the life of an ancient
ewe, of a superannuated hen, and such " small
deer," are locked up in the secrets of my own
breast; but, for the higher departments of the
art, I confess myself to be utterly unfit. My
ambition does not rise so high. No, gentlemen, in the words of Horace,
" Fungar vice cotis, acutum
Reddere que ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi."

SUPPLEMENTARY PAPER ON MURDER,
CONSIDERED AS ONE OF THE FINE ARTS.

A

GOOD many years ago, the reader may
remember that I came forward in the
character of a dilettante in murder. Perhaps
dilettante is too strong a word. Connoisseuy
is better suited to the scruples and infirmity of
public taste. I suppose there is no harm in
that, at least. A man is not bound to put his
eyes, ears, and understanding into his breechespocket when he meets with a murder. If he is
not in a downright comatose state, I suppose
he must see that one murder is better or worse
than another, in point of good taste. Murders
have their little differences and shades of merit,
as well as statues, pictures, oratorios, cameos,
intaglios, or what not. You may be angry
with the mafi for talking too much, or too publicly (as to the too much, that I deny-a man
can never cultivate his taste too highly); but
you must allow him to think, at any rate.

56

ABurber as

Well, would you believe it? all my neighbors
came to hear of that little aesthetic essay which
I had published; and, unfortunately, hearing
at the very same time of a club that I was connected with, and a dinner at which I presided
-both tending to the same little object as the
essay, viz., the diffusion of a just taste among
Her I Majesty's subjects, they got up the most
barbarous calumnies against me. In particular,
they said I, or that the club (which comes to
the same thing), had offered bounties on wellconducted homicides-with a scale of drawbacks, in case of any one defect or flaw, according to a table issued to private friends. Now,
let me tell the whole truth about the dinner
and the club, and it will be seen how malicious
the world is. But first, confidentially, allow
me to say what my real principles are upon the
matter in question.
As to murder, I never committed one in my
life. It's a well-known thing amongst all my
friends. I can get a paper to certify as much,
signed by lots of people. Indeed, if you come
to that, I doubt whether many people conld
produce as strong a certificate. Mine would
be as big as a breakfast table-cloth. There
is indeed one member of the club, who pretends to say he caught me once making too free
with his throat on a club night, after every-

21

ftne

art

57

body else had retired. But, observe, he shuffles
in his story according to his state of civilization.
When not far gone, he contents himself with
saying that he caught me ogling his throat;
and that I was melancholy for some weeks
after, and that my voice sounded in a way
expressing, to the nice ear of a connoisseur,
the sense of opportunitieslost; but the club all
know that he is a disappointed man himself,
and that he speaks querulously at times about
the fatal neglect of a man's coming abroad
without his tools. Besides, all this is an affair
between two amateurs, and everybody makes
allowances for little asperities and fibs in such
a case. "But," say you, "if no murderer, you
may have encouraged, or even have bespoken
a murder." No, upon my honor-no. And
that was the very point I wished to argue for
your satisfaction. The truth is, I am a very
particular man in every thing relating to murder; and perhaps I carry my delicacy too far.
The Stagirite most justly, and possibly with a
view to my case, placed virtue in the r6 vd6or,
or middle point between two extremes. A
golden mean is certainly what every man
should aim at. But it is easier talking than
doing; and, my infirmity being notoriously too
much milkiness of heart, I find it difficult to
maintain that steady equatorial line between

58

tlburer as

two poles of too much murder on the one
hand, and too little on the other. I am too
soft-and people get excused through me-nay,
go through life without an attempt made upon
them that ought not to be excused. I believe,
if I had the management of things, there
would hardly be a murder from year's end to
year's end. In fact, I "m for peace, and quietness, and fawningness, and what may be styled
knocking-underness. A man came to me as a
candidate for the place of my servant, just then
vacant. He had the reputation of having dabbled a little in our art ; some said not without
merit. What startled me, however, was, that
he supposed this art to be part of his regular
duties in my service, and talked of having it
considered in his wages. Now, that was a
thing I would not allow; so I said at once,
" Richard (or James, as the case might be), you
misunderstand my character. If a man will
and must practise this difficult (and allow me
to add, dangerous) branch of art-if he has an
overruling genius for it, why, in that case, all I
say is, that he might as well pursue his studies
whilst living in my service as in another's.
And also, I may observe, that it can do no harm,
either to himself or to the subject on whom he
operates, that he should be guided by men of
more taste than himself. Genius may do

t line Tirt

59

much, but long study of the art must always
entitle a man to offer advice. So far I will gogeneral principles I will suggest. But as to any
particular case, once for all I will have nothing
to do with it. Never tell me of any special
work of art you are meditating-I set my face
against it in tolo. For, if once a man indulges
himself in murder, very soon he comes to think
little of robbing; and from robbing he comes
next to drinking and Sabbath-breaking, and
from that to incivility and procrastination.
Once begin upon this downward path, you
never know where you are to stop. Many a
man has dated his ruin from some murder or
other that perhaps he thought little of at the
time. Principiisobsta-that 's my rule." Such
was my speech, and I have always acted up to
it; so, if that is not being virtuous, I should be
glad to know what it is. But now about the
dinner and the club. The club was not particularly of my creation; it arose pretty much as
other similar associations, for the propagation
of truth and the communication of new ideas;
rather from the necessities of things, than upon
any one man's suggestion. As to the dinner,
if any man more than another could be held
responsible for that, it was a member known
amongst us by the name of Toad-in-the-hole.
He was so called from his gloomy, misanthropi-

6o

lliurber as

cal disposition, which led him into constant
disparagements of all modern murders as vicious
abortions, belonging to no authentic school of
art. The finest performances of our own age
he snarled at cynically; and at length this
querulous humor grew upon him so much, and
he became so notorious as a laudatortemporis
acti, that few people cared to seek his society.
This made him still more fierce and truculent.
He went about muttering and growling; whereever you met him he was soliloquizing, and
saying, " despicable pretender-without grouping-without two ideas upon handling-without" - and there you lost him. At length
existence seemed to be painful to him; he
rarely spoke, he seemed conversing with phantoms in the air; his housekeeper informed us
that his reading was nearly confined to " God's
Revenge upon Murder," by Reynold, and a
more ancient book of the same title, noticed by
Sir Walter Scott in his "Fortunes of Nigel."
Sometimes, perhaps, he might read in the
"Newgate Calendar" down to the year 1788,
but he never looked into a book more recent.
In fact, he had a theory with regard to the
French Revolution, as having been the great
cause of degeneration in murder. " Very soon,
sir," he used to say, "men will have lost the
art of killing poultry: the very rudiments of

S ftne

ert

61

the art will have perished !" In the year I8iI,
he retired from general society. Toad-in-thehole was no more seen in any public resort.
We missed him from his wonted haunts-" nor
up the lawn, nor at the wood was he." By the
side of the main conduit his listless length at
noontide he would stretch, and pore upon the
filth that muddled by.
" Even dogs," this
pensive moralist would say, "are not what
they were, sir-not what they should be. I
remember in my grandfather's time that some
dogs had an idea of murder. I have known a
mastiff, sir, that lay in ambush for a rival, yes,
sir, and finally murdered him, with pleasing
circumstances of good taste. I also was on
intimate terms of acquaintance with a tom-cat
that was an assassin. But now,"-and then,
the subject growing too painful, he dashed his
hand to his forehead, and went off abruptly in
a homeward direction towards his favorite conduit, where he was seen by an amateur in such
a state, that he thought it dangerous to address
him. Soon after Toad shut himself entirely
up; it was understood that he had resigned
himself to melancholy; and at length the prevailing notion was, that Toad-in-the-hole had
hanged himself.
The world was wrong there, as it had been on
some other questions. Toad-in-the-hole might

62

1115urber as

be sleeping, but dead he was not; and of that
we soon had ocular proof. One morning in
1812, an amateur surprised us with the news
that he had seen Toad-in-the-hole brushing with
hasty steps the dews away, to meet the postman
by the conduit side. Even that was something:
how much more to hear that he had shaved his
beard-had laid aside his sad-colored clothes,
and was adorned like a bridegroom of ancient
days. What could be the meaning of all this ?
Was Toad-in-the-hole mad? or how ? Soon
after the secret was explained - in more than a
figurative sense " the murder was out." For in
came the London morning papers, by which it
appeared that but three days before, a murder,
the most superb of the century by many degrees,
had occurred in the heart of London. I need
hardly say, that this was the great exterminating chef-d'ceuvre of Williams at Mr. Marr's,
No. 29 Ratcliffe Highway. That was the dMbut
of the artist; at least for any thing the public
knew. What occurred at Mr. Williamson's
twelve nights afterwards-the second work
turned out from the same chisel-some people
pronounced even superior. But Toad-in-the
hole always "reclaimed," he -was even angry,
at such comparisons. "This vulgar gout de
comparaison, as. La Bruyre calls it,'"he would
often remark, "will be our ,ruin-; each work

21 fine Set

63

has its own separate characteristics-each in
and for itself is incomparable. One perhaps
other the
might suggest the 'Iliad' -the
'Odyssey': but what do you get by such comparisons? Neither ever was, or will be surpassed; and when you 've talked for hours,
you must still come back to that." Vain, however, as all criticism might be, he often said
that volumes might be written on each case for
itself; and he even proposed to publish in
quarto on the subject.
Meantime, how had Toad-in-the-hole happened to hear of this great work of art so early
in the morning ? He had received an account
by express, dispatched by a correspondent in
London, who watched the progress of art on
Toad's behalf, with a general commission to
send off a special express, at whatever cost, in
the event of any estimable works appearing.
The express arrived in the night-time; Toad-inthe-hole was then gone to bed; he had been
muttering and grumbling for hours, but of
course he was called up. On reading the
account, he threw his arms round the express,
declared him his brother and his preserver, and
expressed his regret at not having it in his
power to knight him. We, amateurs, having
heard that he was abroad, and therefore had not
hanged himself, made sure of soon seeing him

64

Iburber as

Accordingly he soon arrived;
amongst us.
seized every man's hand as he passed himwrung it almost frantically, and kept ejaculating, "Why, now, here 's something like a
murder !-this is the real thing-this is genuine
-this is what you can approve, can recommend
to a friend : this-says every man, on reflection
-this is the thing that ought to be ! Such
works are enough to make us all young." And
in fact the general opinion is, that Toad-in-thehole would have died but for this regeneration
of art, which he called a second age of Leo the
Tenth; and it was our duty, he said, solemnly
to commemorate it. At present, and en attendant, he proposed that the club should meet and
dine together. A dinner, therefore, was given
by the club, to which all amateurs were invited
from a distance of one hundred miles.
Of this dinner there are ample short-hand
notes amongst the archives of the club. But
they are not "extended," to speak diplomatically; and the reporter, who only could give
the whole report in extenso, is missing-I believe murdered. Meantime, in years long after
that day, and on an occasion perhaps equally
interesting, viz., the turning up of Thugs and
Thuggism, another dinner was given. Of this
I myself kept notes, for fear of another accident
to the short-hand reporter. And I here subjoin

R fine Brtt

65

them. Toad-in-the-hole, I must mention, was
present at this dinner. In fact, it was one of
its sentimental incidents. Being as old as the
valleys at the dinner of 1812, naturally he was
as old as the hills at the Thug dinner of 1838.
He had taken to wearing his beard again; why,
or with what view, it passes my persimmon to
tell you. But so it was. And his appearance
was most benign and venerable. Nothing
could equal the angelic radiance of his smile
as he inquired after the unfortunate reporter
.(whom, as a piece of private scandal, I should
tell you that he was himself supposed to have
murdered in a rapture of creative art): the
answer was, with roars of laughter, from the
under-sheriff of, our county-" Non est inventus." Toad-in-the-hole laughed outrageously
at this : in fact, we all thought he was choking;
and, at the earnest request of the company, a
musical composer furnished a most beautiful
glee upon the occasion, which was sung five
times after dinner, with universal applause and
inextinguishable laughter, the words being
these (and the chorus so contrived as most
beautifully to mimic the peculiar laughter of
Toad-in-the-hole) :" Et interrogatum est AToad-in-the-hole-Ubi est ille
reporter?
Et responsum est cum cachinno-Non est inventus."

66

lurber as

Chorus.
"Deinde iteratum est ab omnibus, cum cachinnatione
undulante trepidante-Nonest inventus."

Toad-in-the-hole, I ought to mention, about
nine years before, when an express from Edinburgh brought him the earliest intelligence of
the Burke-and-Hare revolution in the art, went
mad upon the spot; and, instead of a pension
to the express for even one life, or a knighthood, endeavored to Burke him; in consequence
of which he was put into a strait-waistcoat.
And that was the reason we had no dinner
then. But now all of us were alive and kicking, strait-waistcoaters and others; in fact, not
one absentee was reported upon the entire roll.
There were also many foreign amateurs present.
Dinner being over, and the cloth drawn, there
was a general call made for the new glee of Non
est inventus; but, as this would have interfered
with the requisite gravity of the company during the earlier toasts, I overruled the call.
After the national toasts had been given, the
first official toast of the day was, The Old Man
of the Mountains--drunkin solemn silence.
Toad-in-the-hole returned thanks in a neat
speech. He likened himself to the Old Man
of the Mountains, in a few brief allusions, that
made the company yell with laughter; and he
concluded with giving the health of

9

fine

eZrt

67

Mr. Von Hammer,with many thanks to him
for his learned History of the Old Man and his
subjects the assassins.
Upon this I rose and said that doubtless most
of the company were aware of the distinguished
place assigned by orientalists to the very learned
Turkish scholar, Von Hammer the Austrian;
that he had made the profoundest researches
into our art, as connected with those early and
eminent artists, the Syrian assassins in the
period of the Crusaders; that his work had been
for several years deposited, as a rare treasure
of art, in the library of the club. Even the
author's name, gentlemen, pointed him out as
the historian of our art-Von Hammer" Yes, yes," interrupted Toad-in-the-hole,
"Von Hammer-he 's the man for a malleus
hereticorum. You all know what consideration
Williams bestowed on the hammer, or the shipcarpenter's mallet, which is the same thing.
Gentlemen, I give you another great hammerCharles the Hammer, the Marteau, or, in old
French, the Martel-he hammered the Saracens
till they were all as dead as door-nails."
" Charlesthe Hammer, with all the honors."
But the explosion of Toad-in-the-hole, together with the uproarious cheers for the grandpapa of Charlemagne, had now made the company unmanageable. The orchestra was again

68

ilBurber as

challenged with shouts the stormiest for the
new glee. I foresaw a tempestuous evening;
and I ordered myself to be strengthened with
three waiters on each side; the vice-president
with as many. Symptoms of unruly enthusiasm were beginning to show out; and I own
that I myself was considerably excited, as the
orchestra opened with its storm of music, and
the impassioned glee began-" Et interrogatum
est A Toad-in-the-hole-Ubi est ille reporter? "
And the frenzy of the passion became absolutely
convulsing, as the full chorus fell in-" Et
iteratum est ab omnibus-Non est inventus."
The next toast was- The Jewish Sicarii.
Upon which I made the following explanation
to the company :-" Gentlemen, I am sure it
will interest you all to hear that the assassins,
ancient as they were, had a race of predecessors
in the very same country. All over Syria, but
particularly in Palestine, during the early years
of the Emperor Nero, there was a band of murderers, who prosecuted their studies in a very
novel manner. They did not practise in the
night-time, or in lonely places; but, justly considering that great crowds are in themselves a
sort of darkness by means of the dense pressure, and the impossibility of finding out who
it was that gave the blow, they mingled with
mobs everywhere ; particularly at the great

Z ftine trt

69

paschal feast in Jerusalem; where they actually
had the audacity, as Josephus assures us, to
press into the temple-and whom should they
choose for operating upon but Jonathan himself, the Pontifex Maximus! They murdered
him, gentlemen, as beautifully as if they had
had him alone on a moonless night in a dark
lane. And when it was asked, who was the
murderer, and where he was"
"Why, then, it was answered," interrupted
Toad-in-the-hole, "Non est inventus."
And
then, in spite of all I could do or say, the
orchestra opened, and the whole company
began-" Et interrogatum est & Toad-in-thehole-Ubi est ille Sicarius ? Et responsum est
ab omnibus-Non est inventus."
When the tempestuous chorus had subsided,
I began again :-" Gentlemen, you will find a
very circumstantial account of the Sicarii in at
least three different parts of Josephus ; once in
Book XX., sec. v. c. 8, of his 'Antiquities' ;
once in Book I. of his 'Wars'; but in sec. x.
of the chapter first cited you will find a particular description of their tooling. This is what
he says : 'They tooled with small scimitars not
much different from the Persian acinace, but
more curved, and for all the world most like the
Roman semi-lunar sicae.' It is perfectly magnificent, gentlemen, to hear the sequel of their

70

0Iurber a

history. Perhaps the only case on record where
a regular army of murderers was assembled, a
justus exercitus, was in the case of these Sicarii. They mustered in such strength in the
wilderness that Festus himself was obliged to
march against them with the Roman legionary
force. A pitched battle ensued, and this army
of amateurs was all cut to pieces in the desert.
Heavens, gentlemen, what a sublime picture!
The Roman legions-the wilderness-Jerusalem
in the distance-an army of murderers in the
foreground !"
The next toast was-" To the further improvement of Tooling, and thanks to the committee
for their services.'
Mr. L., on behalf of the Committee who had
reported on that subject, returned thanks. He
made an interesting extract from the report, by
which it appeared how very much stress had
been laid formerly on the mode of tooling by
the fathers, both Greek and Latin. In confirmation of this pleasing fact, he made a very
striking statement in reference to the earliest
work of antediluvian art. Father Mersenne,
that learned French Roman Catholic, in page
one thousand four hundred and thirty-one 10 of
his operose Commentary on Genesis, mentions,
on the authority of several rabbis, that the
quarrel of Cain with Abel was about a young

R

fine

rt

7-

woman; that, according to the various accounts,
Cain had tooled with his teeth (Abelem fuisse
morsibus dilaceratum a Cain) ; according to
many others, with the jaw-bone of an ass, which
is the tooling adopted by most painters. But it
is pleasing to the mind of sensibility to know
that, as science expanded, sounder views were
adopted. One author contends for a pitchfork,
St. Chrysostoim for a sword, Ireneus for a
scythe, and Prudentius, the Christian poet of
the fourth century, for a hedging-bill. This
last writer delivers his opinion thus :
" Prater, probate sanctitatis emulus,
Germana curvo colla frangit sarculo" :
i.e., his brother, jealous of his attested sanctity, fractures his fraternal throat with a curved
hedging-bill. "All which is respectfully submitted by your committee, not so much as decisive of the question (for it is not), but in order
to impress upon the youthful mind the importance which has ever been attached to the quality
of the tooling by such men as Chrysostom and
Irenaeus. "
" Irenaeus be hanged !" said Toad-in-the-hole,
who now rose impatiently to give the next toast :
-" Our Irish friends; wishing them a speedy
revolution in their mode of tooling, as well as
in every thing else connected with the art! "

72

burt as
er

"Gentlemen, I '11 tell you the plain truth.
Every day of the year we take up a paper ; we
read the opening of a murder. We say, this is
good, this is charming, this is excellent! But,
behold you ! scarcely have we read a little
farther, before the word Tipperary or Ballinasomething betrays the Irish manufacture. Instantly we loathe it; we call to the waiter; we
say: 'Waiter, take away this paper; send it
out of the house; it is absolutely a scandal in
the nostrils of all just taste.' I appeal to every
man, whether on finding a murder (otherwise
perhaps promising enough) to be Irish, he does
not feel himself as much insulted as when, Madeira being ordered he finds it to be Cape ; or
when taking up what he takes to be a mushroom, it turns out what children call a toad-stool.
Tithes, politics, something wrong in principle,
vitiate every Irish murder. Gentlemen, this
must be reformed, or Ireland will not be a land
to live in; at least, if we do live there, we must
import all our murders, that 's clear." Toadin-the-hole sat down, growling with suppressed
wrath, and the uproarious "Hear!
hear!"
clamorously expressed the general concurrence.
The next toast was-" The sublime epoch of
Burkism and Harism ! "
This was drunk with enthusiasm; and one
of the members, who spoke to the question,

t ftne 21rt

73

made a very curious communication to the
company :-" Gentlemen, we fancy Burkism to
be a pure invention of our own times : and, in
fact, no Pancirollus has ever enumerated this
branch of art when writing de reous deperdilis.
Still, I have ascertained that the essential principle of this variety in the art was known to the
ancients, although, like the art of painting upon
glass, of making the myrrhine cups, etc., it was
lost in the dark ages for want of encouragement.
In the famous collection of Greek epigrams
made by Planudes, is one upon a very fascinating case of Burkism: it is a perfect little
gem of art. The epigram itself I cannot lay
my hand upon at this moment; but the following is an abstract of it by Salmasius, as I find it
in his notes on Vopiscus : 'Est et elegans epigramma Lucilii, ubi medicus et pollinctor de
compacto sic egerunt, ut medicus agros omnes
cure sune commissos occideret ': this was the
basis of the contract, you see, that on the one
part the doctor, for himself and his assigns, doth
undertake and contract duly and truly to murder all the patients committed to his charge:
but why? There lies the beauty of the case'Et ut pollinctori amico suo traderet pollingendos.' The pollinctor, you are aware, was a
person whose business it was to dress and prepare dead bodies for burial. The original

74

Mlurber as

ground of the transaction appears to have been
sentimental: 'He was my friend,' says the
murderous doctor ; 'he was dear to me,' in
speaking of the pollinctor. But the law, gentlemen, is stern and harsh: the law will not
hear of these tender motives: to sustain a contract of this nature in law, it is essential that a
'consideration' should be given. Now what
was the consideration ? For thus far all is on
the side of the pollinctor: he will be well paid
for his services ; but, meantime, the generous,
the noble-minded doctor gets nothing. What
was the equivalent, again I ask, which the law
would insist on the doctor's taking, in order to
establish that 'consideration,' without which
the contract had no force? You shall hear:
'Et ut pollinctor vicissim rezteac-i-a quos furabatar de pollinctione mortuorum medico mitteret donis ad alliganda vulnera eorum quos
curabat' ; i. e., and that reciprocally the pollinctor should transmit to the physician, as free
gifts for the binding-up of wounds in those
whom he treated medically, the belts or trusses
(rellauacar) which he had succeeded in purloining in the course of his functions about the
corpses.
" Now, the case is clear: the whole went on a
principle of reciprocity, which would have kept
up the trade for ever. The doctor was also a

B1 fine e2rt

75

surgeon ; he could not murder all his patients;
some of the patients must be retained intact.
For these he wanted linen bandages. But, unhappily, the Romans wore woollen, on which account it was that they bathed so often. Meantime there was linen to be had in Rome; but
it was monstrously dear; and the reouAGs3roa,
or linen swathing bandages, in which superstition obliged them to bind up corpses, would
answer capitally for the surgeon. The doctor,
therefore, contracts to furnish his friend with a
constant succession of corpses, provided, and be
it understood always, that his said friend in return should supply him with one half of the
articles he would receive from the friends of
the parties murdered or to be murdered. The
doctor invariably recommended his invaluable
friend the pollinctor (whom let us call the undertaker); the undertaker, with equal regard
to the sacred rights of friendship, uniformly
recommended the doctor. Like Pylades and
Orestes, they were models of a perfect friendship; in their lives they were lovely, and on the
gallows, it is to be hoped, they were not divided.
"Gentlemen, it makes me laugh horribly
when I think of those two friends drawing and
re-drawing on each other: 'Pollinctor in account with Doctor, debtor by sixteen corpses;
creditor by forty-five bandages, two of which

76

IIIurer as

damaged.'
Their names, unfortunately, are
lost; but I conceive they must have been Quintus Burkius and Publius Harius. By the way,
gentlemen, has anybody heard lately of Hare ?
I understand he is comfortably settled in Ireland,
considerably to the west, and does a little business now and then; but, as he observes with a
sigh, only as a retailer; nothing like the fine
thriving wholesale concern so carelessly blown
'You see what comes of
up at Edinburgh.
neglecting business' is the chief moral, the
7rzuzor,
as Esop would say, which Hare
draws from his past experience."
At length came the toast of the day- Thugdom
in all its branches.
The speeches attempted at this crisis of the
dinner were past all counting. But the applause
was so furious, the music so stormy, and the
crashing of glasses so incessant, from the general resolution never again to drink an inferior
toast from the same glass, that I am unequal to
the task of reporting. Besides which, Toad-inthe-hole now became ungovernable. He kept
firing pistols in every direction ; sent his servant
for a blunderbuss, and talked of loading with
ball-cartridge. We conceived that his former
madness had returned at the mention of Burke
and Hare; or that, being again weary of life, he
had resolved to go off in a general massacre.

S ffne STrt

77

This we could not think of allowing; it became
indispensable, therefore, to kick him out, which
we did with universal consent, the whole company lending their toes uno pede, as I may say,
though pitying his gray hairs and his angelic
smile. During the operation the orchestra
poured in their old chorus. The universal company sang, and (what surprised us most of all)
Toad-in-the-hole joined us furiously in singing :
"E t interrogatum est ab omnibus-Ubi est ille Toad-inthe-hole ?
Et responsum est ab omnibus-Non est inventus."

THREE MEMORABLE MURDERS.
A SEQUEL TO

MURDER CONSIDERED AS ONE OF
THE FINE ARTS."

T is impossible to conciliate readers of so
saturnine and gloomy a class, that they cannot enter with genial sympathy into any gaiety
whatever, but, least of all, when the gaiety trespasses a little into the province of the extravagant. In such a case not to sympathize is not
to understand; and the playfulness which is not
relished becomes flat and insipid, or absolutely
without meaning. Fortunately, after all such
churls have withdrawn from my audience in
high displeasure, there remains a large majority who are loud in acknowledging the amusement which they have derived from a former
paper of mine " On Murder Considered as one of
the Fine Arts" ; at the same time proving the
sincerity of their praise by one hesitating
expression of censure. Repeatedly they have
suggested to me that perhaps extravagance,

Cbree Mflemorable /fiurrer

7 79

though clearly intentional, and forming one
element in the general gaiety of the conception,
went too far. I am not myself of that opinion ;
and I beg to remind these friendly censors,
that it is amongst the direct purposes and
efforts of this bagatelle to graze the brink
of horror, and of all that would in actual
realization be most repulsive. The very excess of the extravagance, in fact, by suggesting to the reader continually the mefe aeriality
of the entire speculation, furnishes the surest
means of disenchanting him from the horror
which might else gather upon his feelings.
Let me remind such objectors, once for all, of
Dean Swift's proposal for turning to account
the supernumerary infants of the three kingdoms, which, in those days, both at Dublin and
at London, were provided for in foundling hospitals, by cooking and eating them. This was
an extravaganza, though really bolder and
more coarsely practical than mine, which did
not provoke any reproaches even to a dignitary
of the supreme Irish church; its own monstrosity was its excuse; mere extravagance was felt
to license and accredit the little jeu d'esprit,
precisely as the blank impossibilities of Lilliput, of Laput, of the Yahoos, etc., had licensed
those. If, therefore, any man thinks it worth
his while to tilt against so mere a foam-bubble

80

Cbree Memorable MtUurbers

of gaiety as this lecture on the aesthetics of
murder, I shelter myself for the moment under
the Telamonian shield of the Dean. But, in
reality, my own little paper may plead a privileged excuse for its extravagance, such as is
altogether wanting to the Dean's. Nobody
can pretend for a moment, on behalf of the
Dean, that there is any ordinary and natural
tendency in human thoughts which could ever
turn to infants as articles of diet; under any
conceivable circumstances, this would be felt
as the most aggravated form of cannibalismcannibalism applying itself to the most defenceless part of the species. But, on the other
hand, the tendency to a critical or aesthetic
valuation of fires and murders is universal. If
you are summoned to the spectacle of a great
fire, undoubtedly the first impulse is-to assist
in putting it out. But that field of exertion is
very limited, and is soon filled by regular professional people, trained and equipped for the
service. In the case of a fire which is operating
upon private property, pity for a neighbor's
calamity checks us at first in treating the affair
as a scenic spectacle. But perhaps the fire may
be confined to public buildings. And in any
case, after we have paid our tribute of regret to
the affair, considered as a calamity, inevitably,
and without restraint, we go on to consider. it

Cbree

Mei3cmorable fiIur'ers

81
8

as a stage spectacle. Exclamations of-How
grand! how magnificent ! arise in a sort of
rapture from the crowd. For instance, when
Drury Lane was burned down in the first decennium of this century, the falling in of the
roof was signalized by a mimic suicide of the
protecting Apollo that surmounted and crested
the centre of this roof. The god was stationary
with his lyre, and seemed looking down upon
the fiery ruins that were so rapidly approaching
him. Suddenly the supporting timbers below
him gave way; a convulsive heave of the billowing flames seemed for a moment to raise the
statue; and then, as if on some impulse of despair, the presiding deity appeared not to fall,
but to throw himself into the fiery deluge, for he
went down head foremost; and in all respects the
descent had the air of a voluntary act. What
followed ? From every one of the bridges over
the river, and from other open areas which
commanded the spectacle, there arose a sustained uproar of admiration and sympathy.
Some few years before this event, a prodigious
fire occurred at Liverpool; the Goree, a vast
pile of warehouses close to one of the docks,
was burned to the ground. The huge edifice,
eight or nine stories high, and laden with most
combustible goods, many thousand bales of
cotton, wheat and oats in thousands of quarters,

82

Ebree MUemorable AMuroers

tar, turpentine, rum, gunpowder, etc., continued through many hours of darkness to feed
this tremendous fire. To aggravate the calamity, it blew a regular gale of wind; luckily for
the shipping, it blew inland, that is, to the
east; and all the way down to Warrington,
eighteen miles distant to the eastward, the
whole air was illuminated by flakes of cotton,
often saturated with rum, and by what seemed
absolute worlds of blazing sparks, that lighted
up all the upper chambers of the air. All the
cattle lying abroad in the fields through a
breadth of eighteen miles, were thrown into
terror and agitation. Men, of course, read in
this hurrying overhead of scintillating and
blazing vortices, the annunciation of some
gigantic calamity going on in Liverpool; and
the lamentation on that account was universal.
But that mood of public sympathy did not at
all interfere to suppress or even to check the
momentary bursts of rapturous admiration, as
this arrowy sleet of many-colored fire rode on
the wings of hurricane, alternately through
open depths of air, or through dark clouds
overhead.
Precisely the same treatment is applied to
murders. After the first tribute of sorrow to
those who have perished, but, at all events,
after the personal interests have been tranquil-

Ubree ?fi1morabe ?I1MirevO
lized by time, inevitably the scenical features
(what aesthetically may be called the comparative advantzfges) of the several murders are reviewed and valued. One murder is compared
with another; and the circumstances of superiority, as, for example, in the incidence and
effects of surprise, of mystery, etc., are collated
and appraised. I, therefore, for my extravagance, claim an inevitable and perpetual
ground in the spontaneous tendencies of the
human mind when left to itself. But no one
will pretend that any corresponding plea can
be advanced on behalf of Swift.
In this important distinction between myself and the Dean, lies one reason which
prompted the present writing. A second pur-,
pose of this paper is, to make the reader acquainted circumstantially with three memorable cases of murder, which long ago the voice
of amateurs has crowned with laurel, but especially with the two earliest of the three, viz.,
the immortal Williams' murder of 1812. The
act and the actor are each separately in the
highest degree interesting; and, as forty-two
years have elapsed since 1812, it cannot be sup.posed that either is known circumstantially to
the men of the current generation.
Never, throughout the annals of universal
Christendom, has there indeed been any act of

84

Ubree tMemorable ASurbere

one solitary insulated individual, armed with
power so appalling over the hearts of men, as
that exterminating murder, by which, during
the winter of 1812, John Williams in one hour,
smote two houses with emptiness, exterminated
all but two entire households, and asserted his
own supremacy above all the children of Cain.
It would be absolutely impossible adequately to
describe the frenzy of feelings which, throughout the next fortnight, mastered the popular
heart; the mere delirium of indignant horror
in some, the mere delirium of panic in others.
For twelve succeeding days, under some groundless notion that the unknown murderer had
quitted London, the panic which had convulsed
the mighty metropolis diffused itself all over the
island. I was myself at that time nearly three
hundred miles from London; but there, and
everywhere, the panic was indescribable. One
lady, my next neighbor, whom personally I
knew, living at the moment, during the absence
of her husband, with a few servants in a very
solitary house, never rested until she had placed
eighteen doors (so she told me, and, indeed, satisfied me by ocular proof), each secured by ponderous bolts, and bars, and chains, between her
own bedroom and any intruder of human build.
To reach her, even in her drawing-room, was
like going, as a flag of truce, into a beleaguered

Cbree Melemorable fiIurer
fortress; at every sixth step one was stopped by
a sort of portcullis. The panic was not confined
to the rich; women in the humblest ranks more
than once died upon the spot, from the shock
attending some suspicious attempts at intrusion
upon the part of vagrants, meditating probably
nothing worse than a robbery, but whom the
poor women, misled by the London newspapers,
had fancied to be the dreadful London murderer.
Meantime, this solitary artist, that rested in the
centre of London, self-supported by his own
conscious grandeur, as a domestic Attila, or
" scourge of God "; this man, that walked in
darkness, and relied upon murder (as afterwards transpired) for bread, for clothes, for promotion in life, was silently preparing an effectual answer to the public journals ; and on the
twelfth day after his inaugural murder, he advertised his presence in London, and published
to all men the absurdity of ascribing to him any
ruralizing propensities, by striking a second
blow, and accomplishing a second family extermination. Somewhat lightened was the provincial panic by this proof that the murderer had
not condescended to sneak into the country, or
to abandon for a moment, under any motive of
caution or fear, the great metropolitan castra
stativa of gigantic crime, seated forever on the
Thames. In fact, the great artist disdained a

86

Ubree Memorable Afurbers

provincial reputation; and he must have felt,
as a case of ludicrous disproportion, the contrast between a country town or village, on the
one hand, and, on the other, a work more lasting than brass-a Xria
ci--a murder such
in quality as any murder that he would condescend to own for a work turned out from his

own studio.
Coleridge, whom I saw some months after
these terrific murders, told me, that, for his
part, though at the time resident in London, he
had not shared in the prevailing panic; him
they effected only as a philosopher, and threw
him into a profound reverie upon the tremendous power which is laid open in a moment to
any man who can reconcile himself to the abjuration of all conscientious restraints, if, at the
same time, thoroughly without fear. Not sharing in the public panic, however, Coleridge did
not consider that panic at all unreasonable; for,
as he said most truly in that vast metropolis
there are many thousands of households, composed exclusively of women and children; many
other thousands there are who necessarily confide their safety, in the long evenings, to the
discretion of a young servant girl; and if she
suffers herself to be beguiled by the pretence
of a message from her mother, sister, or sweetheart, into opening the door, there, in one sec-

Cbree MUemorable MI3urber

8
87

ond of time, goes to wreck the security of the
house. However, at that time, and for many
months afterwards, the practice of steadily putting the chain upon the door before it was
opened prevailed generally, and for a long time
served as a record of that deep impression left
upon London by Mr. Williams. Southey, I may
add, entered deeply into the public feeling on
this occasion, and said to me, within a week or
two of the first murder, that it was a private
event of that order which rose to the dignity of
a national event.* But now, having prepared
the reader to appreciate on its true scale this
dreadful tissue of murder (which as a record
belonging to an era that is now left forty-two
years behind us, not one person in four of this
generation can be expected to know correctly),
let me pass to the circumstantial details of the
affair.
Yet, first of all, one word as to the local scene
of the murders. Ratcliffe Highway is a public
thoroughfare in a most chaotic quarter of eastern or nautical London ; and at this time (viz.,
in 1812), when no adequate police existed except the detective police of Bow Street, admira* I am not sure whether Southey held at this time his
appointment to the editorship of the Edinburgh Annual Register. If he did. no doubt in the domestic section of that chronicle will be found an excellent account
of the whole.

88

Ubree Memorable t1urbers

ble for its own peculiar purposes, but utterly
incommensurate to the general service of the
capital, it was a most dangerous quarter. Every
third man at the least might be set down as a
foreigner. Lascars, Chinese, Moors, Negroes,
were met at every step. And apart from the
manifold ruffianism, shrouded impenetrably
under the mixed hats and turbans of men whose
past was untraceable to any European eye, it is
well known that the navy (especially, in time
of war, the commercial navy) of Christendom is
the sure receptacle of all the murderers and
ruffians whose crimes have given them a motive
for withdrawing themselves for a season from
the public eye. It is true, that few of this class
are qualified to act as " able " seamen : but at
all times, and especially during war, only a
small proportion (or nucleus) of each ship's
company consists of such men: the large majority being mere untutored landsmen. John
Williams, however, who had been occasionally
rated as a seaman on board of various Indiamen, etc., was probably a very accomplished
seaman. Pretty generally, in fact, he was a
ready and adroit man, fertile in resources under
all sudden difficulties, and most flexibly adapting himself to all varieties of social life. Williams was a man of middle stature (five feet
seven and a half, to five feet eight inches high),

Cbree MCemorable !Durers

89

slenderly built, rather thin, but wiry, tolerably
muscular, and clear of all superfluous flesh. A
lady, who saw him under examination (I think
at the Thames Police Office), assured me that
his hair was of the most extraordinary and vivid
color, viz., bright yellow, something between an
orange and lemon color. Williams had been in
India; chiefly in Bengal and Madras: but he had
also been upon the Indus. Now, it is notorious
that, in the Punjaub, horses of a high caste are
often painted-crimson, blue, green, purple;
and it struck me that Williams might, for some
casual purpose of disguise, have taken a hint
from this practice of Scinde and Lahore, so that
the color might not have been natural. In other
respects, his appearance was natural enough;
and, judging by a plaster cast of him, which I
purchased in London, I should say mean, as regarded his facial structure. One fact, however,
was striking, and fell in with the impression of
his natural tiger character, that his face wore at
all times a bloodless ghastly pallor. "You might
imagine," said my informant, "that in his
veins circulated not red life-blood, such as could
kindle into the blush of shame, of wrath, of
pity-but a green sap that welled from no human heart." His eyes seemed frozen and glazed,
as if their light were all converged upon some
victim lurking in the far background. So far

90

Cbree 1Cemorable

tlurOetr

his appearance might have repelled; but, on
the other hand, the concurrent testimony of
many witnesses, and also the silent testimony
of facts, showed that the oiliness and snaky
insinuation of his demeanor counteracted the
repulsiveness of his ghastly face, and amongst
inexperienced young women won for him a very
favorable reception. In particular, one gentlemannered girl, whom Williams had undoubtedly designed to murder, gave in evidencethat once, when sitting alone with her, he had
said: "Now, Miss R., supposing that I should
appear about midnight at your bedside, armed
with a carving knife, what would you say?"
To which the confiding girl had replied: "Oh,
Mr. Williams, if it was anybody else, I should
be frightened. But, as soon as I heard your
voice, I should be tranquil." Poor girl! had
this outline sketch of Mr. Williams been filled
in and realized, she would have seen something
in the corpse-like face, and heard something in
the sinister voice, that would have unsettled
her tranquillity forever. But nothing short of
such dreadful experiences could avail to unmask Mr. John Williams.
Into this perilous region it was that, on a
Saturday night in December, Mr. Williams,
whom we suppose to have long since made
his coup d'essai, forced his way through the

Cbree 1e3cmorable IU1urberz

9
91

crowded streets, bound on business. To say,
was to do. And this night he had said to
himself secretly, that he would execute a design which he had already sketched, and which,
when finished, was destined on the following
day to strike consternation into " all that
mighty heart" of London, from centre to cirIt was afterwards remembered
cumference.
that he had quitted his lodgings on this dark
errand about eleven o'clock P.M.; not that he
meant to begin so soon, but he needed to reconnoitre. He carried his tools closely buttoned
It was in
up under his loose roomy coat.
harmony with the general subtlety of his
character, and his polished hatred of brutality,
that by universal agreement his manners were
distinguished for exquisite suavity: the tiger's
heart was masked by the most insinuating and
snaky refinement. All his acquaintances afterwards described his dissimulation as so ready
and so perfect, that if, in making his way
through the streets, always so crowded on a
Saturday night in neighborhoods so poor, he
had accidentally jostled any person, he would
(as they were all satisfied) have stopped to offer
the most gentlemanly apologies: with his devilish heart brooding over the most hellish of
purposes, he would yet have paused to express
a benign hope that the huge mallet, buttoned up

92

bree Memorable ItiurO~r

under his elegant surtout, with a view to the
little business that awaited him about ninety
minutes further on, had not inflicted any pain
on the stranger with whom he had come into
collision. Titian, I believe, but certainly Rut
bens, and perhaps Vandyke, made it a rule
never to practise his art but in full dress-point,
ruffles, bag wig, and diamond-hilted sword; and:
Mr. Williams, there is reason to believe, when
he went out for a grand compound massacre (in
another sense, one might have applied to it the
Oxford.phrase of going out as Grand Compounder), always assumed black silk stockings and
pumps; nor would he on any account have degraded his position as an artist by wearing a
morning gown. In his second great perform.
ance, it was particularly noticed and recorded
by the one sole trembling man, who under
killing agonies of fear was compelled (as the
reader will find) from a secret stand to become
the solitary spectator of his atrocities, that Mr.
Williams wore a long blue frock, of the very
finest cloth, and richly lined with silk. Amongst
the anecdotes which circulated about him, it
was also said at the time, that Mr. William*
employed the first of dentists, and also the first
of chiropodists. On no account would he patro
nize any second-rate skill. And beyond a doubt
in that perilous little branch of business which

Cbree Mel3morable Ifliurer

3
93

was practised by himself, he might be regarded
as the most aristocratic and fastidious of artists.
But who meantime was the victim, to whose
abode he was hurrying? For surely he never
could be so indiscreet as to be sailing about on
a roving cruise in search of some chance person
to murder? Oh, no: he had suited himself with
a victim some time before, viz., an old and very
intimate friend. For he seems to have laid it
down as a maxim-that the best person to murder was a friend; and, in default of a friend,
which is an article one cannot always command,
an acquaintance: because, in either case, on
first approaching his subject, suspicion would
be disarmed: whereas a stranger might take
alarm, and find in the very countenance of his
murderer elect a warning summons to place
himself on guard. However, in the present
case, his destined victim was supposed to unite
both characters: originally he had been a friend;
but subsequently, on good cause arising, he had
become an enemy. Or more probably, as others
said, the feelings had long since languished
which gave life to either relation of friendship
or of enmity. Marr was the name of that unhappy man, who (whether in the character of
friend or enemy) had been selected for the subject
of this present Saturday night's performance.
And the story current at that time about the

94

Cbree ilbemorable illSurOer

connection between Williams and Marr, having
(whether true or not true) never been contradicted upon authority, was, that they sailed in
the same Indiaman to Calcutta; that they had
quarrelled when at sea; but another version of
the story said-no: they had quarrelled after
returning from sea; and the subject of their
quarrel was Mrs. Marr, a very pretty young
woman, for whose favor they had been rival
candidates, and at one time with most bitter
enmity towards each other. Some circumstances
give a color of probability to this story. Otherwise it has sometimes happened, on occasion of
a murder not sufficiently accounted for, that,
from pure goodness of heart intolerant of a
mere sordid motive for a striking murder, some
person has forged, and the public has accredited,
a story representing the murderer as having
moved under some loftier excitement : and in
this case the public, too much shocked at the
idea of Williams having on the single motive
of gain consummated so complex a tragedy,
welcomed the tale which represented him as
governed by deadly malice, growing out of the
more impassioned and noble rivalry for the
favor of a woman. The case remains in some
degree doubtful; but, certainly, the probability
is, that Mrs. Marr had been the true cause, the
causa teterrima,of the feud between the men.

Cbree MH1emorable tIHuerb

9
95

Meantime, the minutes are numbered, the sands
of the hour-glass are running out, that measure
the duration of this feud upon earth. This night
it shall cease. To-morrow is the day which in
England they call Sunday, which in Scotland
they call by the Judaic name of " Sabbath." To
both nations, under different names, the day has
the same functions; to both it is a day of rest.
For thee also, Marr, it shall be a day of rest; so
is it written ; thou, too, young Marr, shall find
rest--thou, and thy household, and the stranger
that is within thy gates. But that rest must be
in the world which lies beyond the grave. On
this side the grave ye have all slept your final
sleep.
The night was one of exceeding darkness;
and in this humble quarter of London, whatever
the night happened to be, light or dark, quiet
or stormy, all shops were kept open on Saturday
nights until twelve o'clock, at the least, and
many for half an hour longer. There was no
rigorous and pedantic Jewish superstition about
the exact limits of Sunday. At the very worst,
the Sunday stretched over from one o'clock
A.M. of one day, up to eight o'clock A.M. of the
next, making a clear circuit of thirty-one hours.
This, surely, was long enough. Marr, on this
particular Saturday night, would be content if it
were even shorter, provided it would come more

96

bree IIemorable

iurber

quickly, for he has been toiling through sixteen
hours behind his counter. Marr's position in
life was this : he kept a little hosier's shop, and
had invested in his stock and the fittings of his
shop about ,CI8o. Like all men engaged in
trade, he suffered some anxieties. He was a
new beginner; but already bad debts had
alarmed him; and bills were coming to maturity
that were not likely to be met by commensurate
sales. Yet, constitutionally, he was a sanguine
hoper. At this time he was a stout, fresh-col
ored young man of twenty-seven ; in some slight
degree uneasy from his commercial prospect'
but still cheerful, and anticipating - (howv
vainly !)-that for this night, and the next
night, at least, he will rest his wearied head and
his cares upon the faithful bosom of his sweet
lovely young wife. The household of MarrI
consisting of five persons, is as follows: First
there is himself, who, if he should happen to be
ruined, in a li-,ited commercial sense, ha
energy enough to jump up again, like a pyrd
mid of fire, and soar high above ruin man"
times repeated. Yes, poor Marr, so it nlight b
if thou wert left to thy native energies unm
lested; but even now there stands on the othe
side of the street one born of hell, who puts hi
peremptory negative on all these flatterin
prospects. Secopd in the list of his househol

Cbvee fiB emorable Iuffeiu

97
97

stands his pretty and amiable wife, who is
happy after the fashion of youthful wives, for
she is only twenty-two, and anxious (if at all)
only on account of her darling infant. For,
thirdly, there is in a cradle, not quite nine feet
below the street, viz., in a warm, cosy kitchen,
and rocked at intervals by the young mother, a
baby eight months old. Nineteen months have
Marr and herself been married; and this is
their first-born child. Grieve not for this child,
that it must keep the deep rest of Sunday in
some other world; for wherefore should an
orphan steeped to the lips in poverty, when once
bereaved of father and mother, linger upon an
alien and murderous earth ? Fourthly, there is
a stoutish boy, an apprentice, say thirteen years
old; a Devonshire boy, with handsome features,
,such as most Devonshire youths have*; satisfied
with his place; not overworked ; treated kindly,
and aware that he was treated kindly, by his
master and mistress. Fifthly, and lastly, bringing up the rear of this quiet household, is a
servant girl, a grown-up young worman; and
she, being particularly kind-hearted, occupied
(as often happens in families of ihumble preten* An artist told me in this year, 1812, that having accidentally seel a native Devonshire regiment (either

.,volunteers or militia), nline lndired strong, marching
ipast a station at which he had posted himself, he did not
!observe a dozen men that would not have been described
.in common parlance as " good looking."

98

Cbree Mnlemorable AIMurbers

sions as to rank) a sort of sisterly place in her
relation to her mistress. A great democratic
change is at this very time (1854), and has been
for twenty years, passing over British society.
Multitudes of persons are becoming ashamed of
saying, " my master," or " my mistress " : the
term now in the slow process of superseding it
is, " my employer." Now, in the United States,
such an expression of democratic hauteur,
though disagreeable as a needless proclamation
of independence which nobody is disputing,
leaves, however, no lasting bad effect. For the
domestic "helps" are pretty generally in a
state of transition so sure and so rapid to the
headship of domestic establishments belonging
to themselves, that in effect they are but ignoring,
for the present moment, a relation which would
at any rate dissolve itself in a year or two. But
in England, where no such resources exist of
everlasting surplus lands, the tendency of the
change is painful. It carries with it a sullen and
a coarse expression of immunity from a yoke
which was in any case a light one, and often a
benign one. In some other place I will illustrate my meaning. Here, apparently, in Mrs.
Marr's service, the principle concerned illustrated itself practically. Mary, the female
servant, felt a sincere and unaffected respect for
a mistress whom she saw so steadily occupied

Cbree IIIMemorab~e Iblurber

9
99

with her domestic duties, and who, though so
young, and invested with some slight authority,
never exerted it capriciously, or even showed it
at all conspicuously. According to the testimony
of all the neighbors, she treated her mistress
with a shade of unobtrusive respect on the one
hand, and yet was eager to relieve her, whenever
that was possible, from the weight of her maternal duties, with the cheerful voluntary service
of a sister.
To this young woman it was, that, suddenly,
within three or four minutes of midnight, Marr
called aloud from the head of the stairs-directing her to go out and purchase some oysters for
the family supper. Upon what slender accidents
hang oftentimes solemn lifelong results! Marr
occupied in the concerns of his shop, Mrs. Marr
occupied with some little ailment and restlessness of her baby, had both forgotten the affair
of supper; the time was now narrowing every
moment, as regarded any variety of choice; and
oysters were perhaps ordered as the likeliest
article to be had at all, after twelve o'clock
should have struck. And yet, upon this trivial
circumstance depended Mary's life. Had she
been sent abroad for supper at the ordinary
time of ten or eleven o'clock, it is almost
certain that she, the solitary member of the
household who escaped from the exterminating

zoo

Cbree MIIAemorable AHiurbers

tragedy, would not have escaped; too surely
she would have shared the general fate. It had
now become necessary to be quick. Hastily,
therefore, receiving money from Marr, with a
basket in her hand, but unbonneted, Mary
tripped out of the shop. It became afterwards,
on recollection, a heart-chilling remembrance
to herself-that, precisely as she emerged from
the shop-door, she noticed on the opposite side
of the street, by the light of the lamps, a man's
figure; stationary at the instant, but in the
next instant slowly moving. This was Williams, as a little incident, either just before or
just after (at present it is impossible to say
which), sufficiently proved. Now, when one
considers the inevitable hurry and trepidation
of Mary under the circumstances stated, time
barely sufficing for any chance of executing her
errand, it becomes evident that she must have
connected some deep feelifig of mysterious uneasiness with the movements of this unknown
man, else, assuredly, she would not have found
her attention disposable for such a case. Thus
far, she herself threw some little light upon
what it might be that, semi-consciously, was
then passing through her mind; she said, that,
notwithstanding the darkness, which would not
permit her to trace the man's features, or to
ascertain the exact direction of his eyes, it yet

Cbree 1eR~morable 1IIDurbero

101

struck her that from his carriage when in motion, and from the apparent inclination of his
persoii, he must be looking at No. 29.
The little incident which I have alluded to
as confirming Mary's belief was that, at some
period not very far from midnight, the watchman had specially noticed this stranger; he
had observed him continually peeping into the
window of Marr's shop; and had thought this
act, connected with the man's appearance, so
suspicious, that he stepped into Marr's shop and
communicated what he had seen. This fact he
afterwards stated before the magistrates, and he
added that, subsequently, viz., a few minutes after twelve (eight or ten minutes, probably, after
the departure of Mary), he (the watchman),
when re-entering upon his ordinary half-hourly
beat, was requested by Marr to assist him in
closing the shutters. Here they had a final
communication with each other, and the
watchman mentioned to Marr that the mysterious stranger had now apparently taken himself off; for that he had not been visible since
the first communication made to Marr by the
watchman. There is little doubt that Williams
had observed the watchman's visit to Marr, and
thus had his attention seasonably drawn to the
indiscretion of his own demeanor; so that the
warning, given unavailingly to Marr, had been

ro2

Cbree 1HMemorablIe IIurbers

turned to account by Williams. There can be
still less doubt that the bloodhound had commenced his work within one minute of the
watchman's assisting Marr to put up his shutters. And on the following consideration: that
which prevented Williams from commencing
even earlier, was the exposure of the shop's whole
interior to the gaze of street passengers, it was
indispensable that the shutters should be accurately closed before Williams could safely get
to work. But as soon as ever this preliminary
precaution had been completed, once having
secured that concealment from the public eye,
it then became of still greater importance not to
lose a moment by delay than previously it had
been not to hazard any thing by precipitance.
For all depended upon going in before Marr
should have locked the door. On any other
mode of effecting an entrance (as, for instance,
by waiting for the return of Mary, and making his entrance simultaneously with her), it
will be seen that Williams must have forfeited
that particular advantage which mute facts,
when read into their true construction, will
soon show the reader that he must have employed. Williams waited, of necessity, for the
sound of the watchman's retreating steps;
waited, perhaps, for thirty seconds; but when
that danger was past, the next danger was lest

Cbree tiemorabe ffurberz

103

Marr should lock the door; one turn of the
key, and the murderer would have been locked
out. In, therefore, he bolted, and by a dexterous movement of the left hand, no doubt,
turned the key, without letting Marr perceive
this fatal stratagem. It is really wonderful and
most interesting to pursue the successive steps
of this monster, and to notice the absolute certainty with which the silent hieroglyphics of the
case betray to us the whole process and movements of the bloody drama, not less surely and
fully than if we had been ourselves hidden in
Marr's shop, or had looked down from the
heavens of mercy upon this hell-kite, that knew
not what mercy meant. That he had concealed
from Marr his trick, secret and rapid, upon the
lock, is evident, because else Marr would instantly have taken the alarm, especially after
what the watchman had communicated. But it
will soon be seen that Marr had not been
alarmed. In reality, towards the full success of
Williams, it was important, in the last degree,
to intercept and forestall any yell or shout of
agony from Marr. Such an outcry, and in a
situation so slenderly fenced off from thestreet,
viz., by walls the very thinnest, makes itself
heard outside pretty nearly as well as if it were
uttered in the street. Such an outcry it was
indispensable to stifle. It was stifled ; and the

104

Cbree MAemorable AHurbers

reader will soon understand how. Meantime,
at this point, let us leave the murderer alone
with his victims. For fifty minutes let him
work his pleasure. The front door, as weknow,
is now fastened against all help. Help there is
none. Let us, therefore, in vision, attach ourselves to Mary; and, when all is over, let us
come back with her, again raise the curtain, and
read the dreadful record of all that has passed
in her absence.
The poor girl, uneasy in her mind to an extent that she could but half understand, roamed
up and down in search of an oyster shop; and
finding none that was still open, within any
circuit that her ordinary experience had made
her acquainted with, she fancied it best to try
the chances of some remoter district. Lights
she saw gleaming or twinkling at a distance,
that still tempted her onwards; and thus,
amongst unknown streets poorly lighted,* and
on a night of peculiar darkness, and in a region
of London where ferocious tumults were continually turning her out of what seemed to be
the direct course, naturally she got bewildered.
* I do not remember, chronologically, the history of
gas-lights. But in London, long after Mr. Winsor had
shown the value of gas-lighting and its applicability to
street purposes, various districts were prevented, for
many years, from resorting to the new system, in consequence of old contracts with oil-dealers, subsisting
through long terms of years,

Cbree 1fMemorable /e urbers

ro5

The purpose with which she started had by this
time become hopeless. Nothing remained for
her now but to retrace her steps. But this was
difficult; for she was afraid to ask directions
from chance passengers, whose appearance the
darkness prevented her from reconnoitring. At
length by his lantern she recognized a watchman; through him she was guided into the
right road, and in ten minutes more she found
herself back at the door of No. 29, in Ratcliffe
Highway. But by this time she felt satisfied
that she must have been absent for fifty or sixty
minutes; indeed, she had heard, at a distance,
the cry of past one o'clock, which, commencing
a few seconds after one, lasted intermittingly
for ten or thirteen minutes.
In the tumult of agonizing thoughts that
very soon surprised her, naturally it became
hard for her to recall distinctly the whole succession of doubts, and jealousies, and shadowy
misgivings that soon opened upon her. But,
so far as could be collected, she had not in the
first moment of reaching home noticed any
thing decisively alarming. In very many cities
bells are the main instruments for communicating between the street and the interior of
houses: but in London knockers prevail. At
Marr's there was both a knocker and a bell.
Mary rang, and at the same time very gently

1o6

Cbree Memorable Aurbers

knocked. She had no fear of disturbing her
master or mistress; them she made sure of finding still up. Her anxiety was for the baby,
who being disturbed, might again rob her mistress of a night's rest. And she well knew that,
with three people all anxiously awaiting her
return, and by this time, perhaps, seriously
uneasy at her delay, the least audible whisper
from herself would in a moment bring one of
them to the door. Yet how is this? To her
astonishment, but with the astonishment came
creeping over her an icy horror, no stir nor
murmur was heard ascending from the kitchen.
At this moment came back upon her with
shuddering anguish, the indistinct image of
the stranger in the loose dark coat, whom she
had seen stealing along under the shadowy
lamp-light, and too certainly watching her
master's motions: keenly she now reproached
herself that, under whatever stress of hurry,
she had not acquainted Mr. Marr with the suspicious appearances. Poor girl! she did not
then know that, if this communication could
have availed to put Marr upon his guard, it had
reached him from another quarter ; so that her
own omission, which had in reality arisen under her hurry to execute her master's commission, could not be charged with any bad consequences. But all such reflections this way or

Cbree Mllemorable

tflurber

107
0

that were swallowed up at this point in overmastering panic. That her double summons
could have been unnoticed-this solitary fact
in one moment made a revelation of horror.
One person might have fallen asleep, but twobut three-th/at was a mere impossibility. And
even supposing all three together with the
baby locked in sleep, still how unaccountable
was this utter-utter silence! Most naturally
at this moment something like hysterical horror overshadowed the poor girl, and now at last
she rang the bell with the violence that belongs
to sickening terror. This done, she paused:
self-command enough she still retained, though
fast and fast it was slipping away from her, to
bethink herself--that, if any overwhelming
accident had compelled both Marr and his apprentice-boy to leave the house in order to
summon surgical aid from opposite quarters-a
thing barely supposable-still, even in that
case Mrs. Marr and her infant would be left;
and some murmuring reply, under any extremity, would be elicited from the poor mother.
To pause, therefore, to impose stern silence
upon herself, so as to leave room for the possible answer to this final appeal, became a duty
of spasmodic effort. Listen, therefore, poor
trembling heart; listen, and for twenty seconds
be still as death. Still as death she was : and

zo8

tbree Iemorable iAurbers

during that dreadful stillness, when she hushed
her breath that she might listen, occurred an
incident of killing fear, that to her dying day
would never cease to renew its echoes in her
ear. She, Mary, the poor trembling girl,
checking and overruling herself by a final
effort, that she might leave full opening for
her dear young mistress' answer to her own last
frantic appeal, heard at last and most distinctly
a sound within the house. Yes, now beyond a
doubt there is coming an answer to her summons. What was it? On the stairs, not the
stairs that led downwards to the kitchen, but
the stairs that led upwards to the single story
of bed-chambers above, was heard a creaking
sound. Next was heard most distinctly a footfall: one, two, three, four, five stairs were
Then the
slowly and distinctly descended.
dreadful footsteps were heard advancing along
the little narrow passage to the door. The
steps-oh heavens ! whose steps ?-have paused
at the door. The very breathing can be heard
of that dreadful being, who has silenced all
breathing except his own in the house. There
is but a door between him and Mary. What is
he doing on the other side of the door ? A cautious step, a stealthy step it was that came
down the stairs, then paced along the little
narrow passage-narrow as a coffin-till at last

Cbree Hemorable flurbere

iog

the step pauses at the door. How hard the
fellow breathes! He, the solitary murderer, is
on one side of the door; Mary is on the other
side. Now, suppose that he should suddenly
open the door, and that incautiously in the
dark Mary should rush in, and find herself in
the arms of the murderer. Thus far the case
is a possible one-that to a certainty, had this
little trick been tried immediately upon Mary's
return, it would have succeeded; had the door
been opened suddenly upon her first tingletingle, headlong she would have tumbled in,
and perished. But now Mary is upon her
guard. The unknown murderer and she have
both their lips upon the door, listening, breathing hard; but luckily they are on different
sides of the door; and upon the least indication
of unlocking or unlatching, she would have
recoiled into the asylum of general darkness.
What was the murderer's meaning in coming
along the passage to the front door ? The
meaning was this: separately, as an individual,
Mary was worth nothing at all to him. But,
considered as a member of a household, she
had this value, viz., that she, if caught and
murdered, perfected and rounded the desolation
of the house. The case being reported, as reported it would be all over Christendom, led
the imagination captive. The whole covey of

rio

Cbree M emorable MAurbers

victims was thus netted; the household ruin
was thus full and orbicular; and in that proportion the tendency of men and women, flutter as they might, would be helplessly and
hopelessly to sink into the all-conquering
hands of the mighty murderer. He had but to
say-my testimonials are dated from No. 29,
Ratcliffe Highway, and the poor vanquished
imagination sank powerless before the fascinating rattlesnake eye of the murderer. There
is not a doubt that the motive of the murderer
for standing on the inner side of Marr's front
door, whilst Mary stood on the outside, was-a
hope that, if he quietly opened the door, whisperingly counterfeiting Marr's voice, and saying, What made you stay so long? possibly she
might have been inveigled. He was wrong;
the time was past for that; Mary was now
maniacally awake; she began now to ring the
bell and to ply the knocker with unintermitting
violence. And the natural consequence was,
that the next door neighbor, who had recently
gone to bed and instantly fallen asleep, was
roused; and by the incessant violence of the
ringing and the knocking, which now obeyed a
delirious and uncontrollable impulse in Mary,
he became sensible that some very dreadful
event must be at the root of so clamorous an
uproar. To rise, to throw up the sash, to de-

Cbree Ilmorable Afurbers

III

mand angrily the cause of this unseasonable
tumult, was the work of a moment. The poor
girl remained sufficiently mistress of herself
rapidly to explain the circumstance of her own
absence for an hour; her belief that Mr. and
Mrs. Marr's family had all been murdered in the
interval; and that at this very moment the
murderer was in the house.
The person to whom she addressed this statement was a pawnbroker; and a thoroughly brave
man he must have been; for it was a perilous
undertaking, merely as a trial of physical
strength, singly to face a mysterious assassin,
who had apparently signalized his prowess by a
triumph so comprehensive. But, again, for the
imagination it required an effort of self-conquest
to rush headlong into the presence of one invested with a cloud of mystery, whose nation,
age, motives, were all alike unknown. Rarely
on any field of battle has a soldier been called
upon to face so complex a danger. For if the
entire family of his neighbor Marr had been
exterminated, were this indeed true, such a
scale of bloodshed would seem to argue that
there must have been two persons as the perpetrators ; or if one singly had accomplished such
a ruin, in that case how colossal must have been
his audacity ! probably, also, his skill and animal
power! Moreover, the unknown enemy (whether

112

Cbree MAlemorable Aflurbers

single or double) would, doubtless, be elaborately
armed. Yet, under all these disadvantages, did
this fearless man rush at once to the field of
butchery in his neighbor's house. Waiting only
to draw on his trousers, and to arm himself with
the kitchen poker, he went down into his own
little back-yard. On this mode of approach, he
would have a chance of intercepting the murderer; whereas from the front there would be
no such chance; and there would also be considerable delay in the process of breaking open
the door. A brick wall, nine or ten feet high,
divided his own back premises from those of
Marr. Over this he vaulted; and at the moment
when he was recalling himself to the necessity
of going back for a candle, he suddenly perceived a feeble ray of light already glimmering
on some part of Marr's premises. Marr's backdoor stood wide open. Probably the murderer
had passed through it one half minute before.
Rapidly the brave man passed onwards to the
shop, and there beheld the carnage of the night
stretched out on the floor, and the narrow
premises so floated with gore, that it was hardly
possible to escape the pollution of blood in
picking out a path to the front-door. In the
lock of the door still remained the key which
had given to the unknown murderer so fatal an
advantage over his victims. By this time, the

Cbree femorab[e Aurbers

I3

heart-shaking news involved in the outcries of
Mary (to whom it occurred that by possibility
some one out of so many victims might still be
within the reach of medical aid, but that all
would depend upon speed) had availed, even at
that late hour, to gather a small mob about the
house. The pawnbroker threw open the door.
One or two watchmen headed the crowd; but
the soul-harrowing spectacle checked them, and
impressed sudden silence upon their voices,
previously so loud. The tragic drama read
aloud its own history, and the succession of its
several steps-few and summary. The murderer
was as yet altogether unknown; not even suspected. But there were reasons for thinking
that he must have been a person familiarly
known to Marr. He had entered the shop by
opening the door after it had been closed by
Marr. But it was justly argued-that, after the
caution conveyed to Marr by the watchman, the
appearance of any stranger in the shop at that
hour, and in so dangerous a neighborhood, and
entering by so irregular and suspicious a course
(i. e.,walking in after the door had been closed,
and after the closing of the shutters had cut off
all open communication with the street), would
naturally have roused Marr to an attitude of
vigilance and self-defence.
Any indication,
therefore, that Marr had not been so roused,

Tr4

Cbree 3emnorable furers

would argue to a certainty that something had
occurred to neutralize this alarm, and fatally to
disarm the prudent jealousies of Marr. But this
"something" could only have lain in one simple
fact, viz., that the person of the murderer was
familiarly known to Marr as that of an ordinary
and unsuspected acquaintance. This being presupposed as the key to all the rest, the whole
course and evolution of the subsequent drama
becomes clear as daylight. The murderer, it is
evident, had opened gently, and again closed
behind him with equal gentleness, the streetdoor. He had then advanced to the little
counter, all the while exchanging the ordinary
salutation of an old acquaintance with the unsuspecting Marr. Having reached the counter,
he would then ask Marr for a pair of unbleached
cotton socks. In a shop so small as Marrs',
there could be no great latitude of choice for
disposing of the different commodities. The
arrangement of these had no doubt become
familiar to the murderer; and he had already
ascertained that, in order to reach down the
particular parcel wanted at present, Marr would
find it requisite to face round to the rear, and,
at the same moment, to raise his eyes and his
hands to a level eighteen inches above his own
head. This movement placed him in the most
disadvantageous possible position with regard

Cbree

emorable Iurbere

"5

to the murderer, who now, at the instant when
Marr's hands and eyes were embarrassed, and
the back of his head fully exposed, suddenly
from below his large surtout, had unslung a
heavy ship-carpenter's mallet, and, with one
solitary blow, had so thoroughly stunned his
victim, as to leave him incapable of resistance.
The whole position of Marr told its own tale.
He had collapsed naturally behind the counter,
with his hands so occupied as to confirm the
whole outline of the affair as I have here suggested it. Probable enough it is that the very
first blow, the first indication of treachery that
reached Marr, would also be the last blow as
regarded the abolition of consciousness. The
murderer's plan and rationaleof murder started
systematically from this affliction of apoplexy,
or at least of a stunning sufficient to insure a
long loss of consciousness. This opening step
placed the murderer at his ease. But still as
returning sense might constantly have led to
the fullest exposures, it was his settled practice,
by way of consummation, to cut the throat. To
one invariable type all the murders on this occasion conformed: the skull was first shattered;
this step secured the murderer from instant retaliation; and then, by way of locking up all
into eternal silence, uniformly the throat was
cut. The rest of the circumstances, as self-re-

i16

Cbree Aemorable

uIlurbere

vealed, were these. The fall of Marr might,
probably enough, cause a dull, confused sound
of a scuffle, and the more so, as it could not now
be confounded with any street uproar-the shop
door being shut. It is more probable, however,
that the signal for the alarm passing down to
the kitchen, would arise when the murderer
proceeded to cut Marr's throat. The very confined situation behind the counter would render
it impossible, under the critical hurry of the
case, to expose the throat broadly; the horrid
scene would proceed by partial and interrupted
cuts; deep groans would arise ; and then would
come the rush up-stairs. Against this, as the
only dangerous stage in the transaction, the
murderer would have specially prepared. Mrs.
Marr and the apprentice-boy, both young and
active, would make, of course, for the street
door; had Mary been at home, and three persons at once had combined to distract the purposes of the murderer, it is barely possible that
one of them would have succeeded in reaching
the street. But the dreadful swing ofthe heavy
mallet intercepted both the boy and his mistress
before they could reach the door. Each of them
lay stretched out on the centre of the shop floor;
and the very moment that this disabling was
accomplished, the accursed hound was down
upon their throats with his razor. The fact is,

Cbrbee

l~anorable bubere

1"7

that, in the mere blindness of pity for poor
Mar, on hearing his groans, Mrs. Marr had
lost sight of her obvious policy; she and the
boy ought to have made for the back door ; the
alarm would thus have been given in the open
air; which, of itself, was a great point; and several means of distracting the murderer's attention offered upon that course, whiich the extreme limitation of the shop denied to them
upon the other.
Vain would be all attempts to convey the
horror which thrilled the gathering spectators
of this piteous tragedy. It was known to the
crowd that one person had, by some accident,
escaped the general massacre ; but she was now
speechless, and probably delirious; so that, in
compassion for her pitiable situation, one female neighbor had carried her away, and put
her to bed. Hence it had happened, for a longer
space of time than could else have been possible, that no person present was sufficiently acquainted with the Marrs to be aware of the
little infan.t; for the bold pawnbroker had gone
off to make a communication to the coroner;
and another neighbor to lodge some evidence
which he thought urgent at a neighboring police-office. Suddenly some person appeared
amongst the crowd who was aware that the
murdered parents had a young infant; this

118

Ebree Memorable IUurbers

would be found either below-stairs, or in one
of the bedrooms above. Immediately a stream
of people poured down into the kitchen, where
at once they saw the cradle-but with the bedclothes in a state of indescribable confusion. On
disentangling these, pools of blood became visible; and the next ominous sign was, that the
hood of the cradle had been smashed to pieces.
It became evident that the wretch had found
himself doubly embarrassed-first, by the arched
hood at the head of the cradle, which, accordingly, he had beaten into a ruin with his mallet
and secondly, by the gathering of the blankets
and pillows about the baby's head. The free
play of his blows had thus been baffled. And
he had therefore finished the scene by applying
his razor to the throat of the little innocent;
after which, with no apparent purpose, as
though he had become confused by the spectacle of his own atrocities, he had busied himself in piling the clothes elaborately over the
child's corpse. This incident undeniably gave
the character of a vindictive proceeding to the
whole affair, and so far confirmed the current
rumor that the quarrel between Williams and
Marr had originated in rivalship. One writer,
indeed, alleged that the murderer might have
found it necessary for his owu safety to extinguish the crying of the child; but it was

Cbree Ilemorable Iurbers

i19

justly replied, that a child only eight months
old could not have cried under any sense of the
tragedy proceeding, but simply in its ordinary
way for the absence of its mother ; and such a
cry, even if audible at all out of the house, must
have been precisely what the neighbors were
hearing constantly, so that it could have drawn
no special attention, nor suggested any reasonable alarm to the murderer. No one incident, indeed, throughout the whole tissue of atrocities,
so much envenomed the popular fury against
the unknown ruffian, as this useless butchery
of the infant.
Naturally, on the Sunday morning that
dawned four or five hours later, the case was
too full of horror not to diffuse itself in all
directions; but I have no reason to think that
it crept into any one of the numerous Sunday
papers. In the regular course, any ordinary
occurrence, not occurring, or not transpiring
until fifteen minutes after I A.M. on a Sunday
morning, would first reach the public ear
through the Monday editions of the Sunday
papers, and the regular morning papers of the
Monday. But, if such were the course pursued
on this occasion, never can there have been a
more signal oversight. For it is certain, that to
have met the public demand for details on the
Sunday, which might so easily have been done by

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Ubree MHemorabIe AMbfurbers

cancelling a couple of dull columns, and substituting a circumstantial narrative, for which the
pawnbroker and the watchman could have furnished the materials, would have made a small
fortune. By proper handbills dispersed through
all quarters of the infinite metropolis, two hundred and fifty thousand extra copies might have
been sold; that is, by any journal that should
have collected exclusive materials, meeting the
public excitement, everywhere stirred to the
centre by flying rumors, and everywhere burning for ampler information. On the Sunday
se'ennight (Sunday the oclave from the event)
took place the funeral of the Marrs ; in the first
coffin was placed Marr; in the second Mrs.
Marr, and the baby in her arms; in the third
the apprentice boy. They were buried side by
side; and thirty thousand laboring people followed the funeral procession, with horror and
grief written in their countenances.
As yet no whisper was astir that indicated,
even conjecturally, the hideous author of these
ruins-this patron of grave-diggers. Had as
much been known on this Sunday of the funeral concerning that person as became known
universally six days later, the people would
have gone right from the churchyard to the
murderer's lodgings, and (brooking no delay)
would have torn him limb from limb. As yet,

Vbree llMemorable flAurbero

12I

however, in mere default of any object on
whom reasonable suspicion could settle, the
public wrath was compelled to suspend itself.
Else, far indeed from showing any tendency to
subside, the public emotion strengthened every
day conspicuously, as the reverberation of the
shock began to travel back from the provinces
to the capital. On every great road in the kingdom, continual arrests were made of vagrants
and " trampers," who could give no satisfactory
account of themselves, or whose appearance in
any respect answered to the imperfect description of Williams furnished by the watchman.
With this mighty tide of pity and indignation
pointing backwards to the dreadful past, there
mingled also in the thoughts of reflecting persons an under-current of fearful expectation for
the immediate future. " The earthquake," to
quote a fragment from a striking passage in
Wordsworth"The earthquake is not satisfied at once."

All perils, specially malignant, are recurrent.
A murderer, who is such by passion and by a
wolfish craving for bloodshed as a mode of unnatural luxury, cannot relapse into inertia.
Such a man, even more than the Alpine chamois hunter, comes to crave the dangers and the
hair-breadth escapes of his trade, as a condiment

r22

Cbree Aremorable A~urbers

for seasoning the insipid monotonies of daily
life. But, apart from the hellish instincts that
might too surely be relied on for renewed atrocities, it was clear that the murderer of the
Marrs, wheresoever lurking, must be a needy
man; and a needy man of that class least likely
to seek or to find resources in honorable modes
of industry; for which, equally by haughty
disgust and by disuse of the appropriate habits,
men of violence are specially disqualified. Were
it, therefore, merely for a livelihood, the murderer whom all hearts were yearning to decipher,
might be expected to make his resurrection on
some stage of horror, after a reasonable interval.
Even in the Marr murder, granting that it had
been governed chiefly by cruel and vindictive
impulses, it was still clear that the desire of
booty had co6perated with such feelings.
Equally clear it was that this desire must have
been disappointed; excepting the trivial sum
reserved by Marr for the week's expenditure,
the murderer found, doubtless, little or nothing
that he could turn to account. Two guineas,
perhaps, would be the outside of what he had
obtained in the way of booty. A week or so
would see the end of that. The conviction,
therefore, of all people was, that in a month or
two, when the fever of excitement might a little
have cooled down, or have been superseded by

Cbree Mlemorable iurbers

123

other topics of fresher interest, so that the
new-born vigilance of household life would have
had time to relax, some new murder, equally
appalling, might be counted upon.
Such was the public expectation. Let the
reader then figure to himself the pure frenzy of
horror when in this hush of expectation, looking, indeed, and waiting for the unknown arm to
strike once more, but not believing that any
audacity could be equal to such an attempt as
yet, whilst all eyes were watching, suddenly on
the twelfth night from the Marr murder, a
second case of the same mysterious nature, a
murder on the same exterminating plan was
perpetrated in the very same neighborhood. It
was on the Thursday next but one succeeding to
the Marr murder that this second atrocity took
place; and many people thought at the time,
thatin its dramatic features of thrilling interest,
this second case even went beyond the first.
The family which suffered in this instance was
that of a Mr. Williamson; and the house was
situated, if not absolutely in Ratcliffe Highway,
at any rate immediately round the corner of
some secondary street, running at right angles
to this public thoroughfare. Mr. Williamson
was a well-known and respectable man, long
settled in that district ; he was supposed to be
rich; and more with a view to the employment

124

Cbree iIemorable A1urbers

furnished by such a calling, than with much
anxiety for further accumulations, he kept a
sort of tavern ; which, in this respect, might be
considered on an old patriarchal footing-that,
although people of considerable property resorted to the house in the evenings, no kind of
anxious separation was maintained between
them and the other visitors from the class of
artisans or common laborers. Anybody who
conducted himself with propriety was free to
take a seat, and call for any liquor that he
might prefer. And thus the society was pretty
miscellaneous; in part stationary, but in some
proportion fluctuating. The household consisted of the following five persons :-I. Mr.
Williamson, its head, who was an old man above
seventy, and was well fitted for his situation,
being civil, and not at all morose, but, at the
same time, firm in maintaining order; 2. Mrs.
Williamson, his wife, about ten years younger
than himself; 3. a little granddaughter, about
nine years old; 4. a housemaid, who was nearly
forty years old; 5. a young journeyman, aged
about twenty-six, belonging to some manufacturing establishment (of what class I have
forgotten); neither do I remember of what
nation he was. It was the established rule at
Mr. Williamson's that, exactly as the clock
struck eleven, all the company, without favoror

Cbree Ilbemorable IIburere

125

exception, moved off. That was one of the
customs by which, in so stormy a district, Mr.
Williamson had found it possible to keep his
house free from brawls. On the present Thursday night every thing had gone on as usual,
except for one slight shadow of suspicion, which
had caught the attention of more persons than
one. Perhaps at a less agitating time it would
hardly have been noticed: but now, when the
first question and the last in all social meetings
turned upon the Marrs, and their unknown
murderer, it was a circumstance naturally fitted
to cause some uneasiness, that a stranger, of
sinister appearance, in a wide surtout, had flitted
in and out of the room at intervals during the
evening; had sometimes retired from the light
into obscure corners; and, by more than one
person, had been observed stealing into the
private passages of the house. It was presumed
in general, that the man must be known to
Williamson. And, in some slight degree, as an
occasional customer of the house, it is not
impossible that he was. But afterwards, this
repulsive stranger, with his cadaverous ghastliness, extraordinary hair, and glazed eyes,
showing himself intermittingly through the
hours from 8 to II P.M., revolved upon the
memory of all who had steadily observed him
with something of the same freezing effect as

126

Cbree Albemorable

Suroers

belongs to the two assassins in " Macbeth," who
present themselves reeking from the murder of
Banquo, and gleaming dimly, with dreadful
faces, from the misty background, athwart the
pomps of the regal banquet.
Meantime the clock struck eleven ; the company broke up; the door of entrance was nearly
closed; and at this moment of general dispersion the situation of the five inmates left upon
the premises was precisely this: the three
elders, viz., Williamson, his wife, and his female servant, were all occupied on the ground
floor-Williamson himself was drawing ale,
porter, etc., for those neighbors in whose favor
the house-door had been left ajar, until the
hour of twelve should strike; Mrs. Williamson
and her servant were moving to and fro between
the back-kitchen and a little parlor; the little
granddaughter, whose sleeping-room was on the
first floor (which term in London means always
the floor raised by one flight of stairs above the
level of the street), had been fast asleep since
nine o'clock; lastly, the journeyman artisan
had retired to rest for some time. He was a
regular lodger in the house; and his bedroom
was on the second floor. For some time he had
been undressed, and had lain down in bed.
Being, as a working man, bound to habits of
early rising, he was naturally anxious to fall

Cbree t emorable MurDers

127

asleep as soon as possible. But, on this particular night, his uneasiness, arising from the
recent murders at No. 29, rose to a paroxysm
of nervous excitement which kept him awake.
It is possible that, from somebody, he had
heard of the suspicious-looking stranger, or
might even personally observed him slinking
about. But, were it otherwise, he was aware
of several circumstances dangerously affecting
this house; for instance, the ruffianism of this
whole neighborhood, and the disagreeable fact
that the Marrs had lived within a few doors of
this very house, which again argued that the
murderer also lived at no great distance. These
were matters of generalalarm. But there were
others peculiar to this house; in particular, the
notoriety of Williamson's opulence; the belief,
whether well- or ill-founded, that he accumulated, in desks and drawers, the money continually flowing into his hands; and lastly, the
danger so ostentatiously courted by that habit
of leaving the house-door ajar through one
entire hour-and that hour loaded with extra
danger by the well-advertised assurance that no
collision need be feared with chance convivial
visitors, since all such people were banished at
eleven. A regulation, which had hitherto operated beneficially for the character and comfort
of the house, now, on the contrary, under

128

ibree

iemorable ?iurbers

altered circumstances, became a positive proclamation of exposure and defencelessness
through one entire period of an hour. Williamson himself, it was said generally, being a
large and unwieldy man, past seventy, and
signally inactive, ought, in prudence, to make
the locking of his door coincident with the dismissal of his evening party.
Upon these and other grounds of alarm (particularly this, that Mrs. Williamson was reported
to possess a considerable quantity of plate), the
journeyman was musing painfully, and the time
might be within twenty-eight or twenty-five
minutes of twelve, when, all at once, with a
crash, proclaiming some hand of hideous violence, the house-door was suddenly shut and
locked. Here, then, beyond all doubt, was the
diabolic man clothed in mystery, from No. 29
Ratcliffe Highway. Yes, that dreadful being.
who, for twelve days, had employed all thoughts
and all tongues, was now, too certainly, in this
defenceless home, and would, in a few minutes,
be face to face with every one of its inmates.
A question still lingered in the public mind-whether, at Marr's, there might not have been
two men at.work. If so, there would be two at
present; and one of the two would be immediately disposable for the up-stairs work; since
no danger could obviously be more immediately

Ubree IMemorable lurbers

129

fatal to such an attack than any alarm given
from an upper window to the passengers in the
street. Through one half-minute the poor
panic-stricken man sat up motionless in bed.
But then he rose, his first movement being
towards the door of his room. Not for any
purpose of securing it against intrusion-too
well he knew that there was no fastening of
any sort-neither lock nor bolt; nor was there
any such movable furniture in the room as
might have availed to barricade the door, even
if time could be counted on for such an attempt.
It was no effect of prudence, merely the fascination of killing fear it was, that drove him to
open the door. One step brought him to the
head of the stairs : he lowered his head over the
balustrade in order to listen, and at that moment ascended, from the little parlor, this agonizing cry from the woman-servant: " Lord
Jesus Christ! we shall all be murdered!"
What a Medusa's head must have lurked in
those dreadful bloodless features, and those
glazed rigid eyes, that seemed rightfully belonging to a corpse, when one glance at them sufficed to proclaim a death-warrant.
Three separate death struggles were by this
time over; and the poor petrified journeyman,
quite unconscious of what he was doing, in
blind, passive, self-surrender to panic, abso-

130

Cbree lAemorable Aurbers

lutely descended both flights of stairs. Infinite
terror inspired him with the same impulse as
might have been inspired by headlong courage.
In his shirt, and upon old, decaying stairs that
at times creaked under his feet, he continued to
descend until he had reached the lowest step
but four. The situation was tremendous beyond
any that is on record. A sneeze, a cough, almost a breathing, and the young man would be
a corpse, without a chance or a struggle for his
life. The murderer was at that time in the little parlor-the door of which parlor faced you
in descending the stairs; and this door stood
ajar; indeed, much more considerably open
than what is understood by the term "ajar."
Of that quadrant, or 90 degrees, which the door
would describe in swinging so far open as to
stand at right angles to the lobby, or to itself,
in a closed position, 55 degrees at the least were
exposed. Consequently, two out of three
corpses were exposed to the young man's gaze.
Where was the third? And the murdererwhere was he? As to the murderer, he was
walking rapidly backwards and forwards in the
parlor, audible but not visible at first, being
engaged with some thing or other in that part
of the room which the door still concealed.
What the something might be the sound soon
explained : he was applying keys tentatively

Cbree MIlemorable AIurbers

I31

to a cupboard, a closet, and a scrutoire, in the
hidden part of the room. Very soon, however, he came into view; but, fortunately for
the young man, at this critical moment, the
murderer's purpose too entirely absorbed him
to allow of his throwing a glance to the staircase,
on which else the white figure of the journeyman, standing in motionless horror, would have
been detected in one instant, and seasoned for
the grave in the second. As to the third corpse,
the missing corpse, viz., Mr. Williamson's, that
is in the cellar; and how its local position can
be accounted for, remains a separate question
much discussed at the time, but never satisfactorily cleared up. Meantime, that Williamson
was dead, became evident to the young man;
since else he would have been heard stirring or
groaning. Three friends, therefore, out of four,
whom the young man had parted with forty
minutes ago, were now extinguished; remained,
therefore, 40 per cent. (a large per centage for
Williams to leave); remained, in fact, himself
and his pretty young friend, the little granddaughter, whose childish innocence was still
slumbering without fear for herself, or grief for
her aged grand-parents. If they are gone for
ever, happily one friend (for such he will prove
himself, indeed, if from such a danger he can
save this child) is pretty near to her. But alas !

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Ubree Alemorable Aurbers

he is still nearer to a murderer. At this moment
he is unnerved for any exertion whatever; he
has changed into a pillar of ice; for the objects
before him, separated by just thirteen feet, are
these: The housemaid had been caught by the
murderer on her knees; she was kneeling
before the fire-grate, which she had been polishing with black lead. That part of her task
was finished; and she had passed on to another
task, viz., the filling of the grate with wood and
coals, not for kindling at this moment, but so
as to have it ready for kindling on the next
day. The appearances all showed that she
must have been engaged in this labor at the
very moment when the murderer entered; and
perhaps the succession of the accidents arranged itself as follows : From the awful ejaculation and loud outcry to Christ, as overheard
by the journeyman, it was clear that then first
she had been alarmed; yet this was at least one
and a-half or even two minutes after the doorslamming. Consequently the alarm which had
so fearfully and seasonably alarmed the young
man, must, in some unaccountable way, have
been misinterpreted by the two women. It was
said, at the time, that Mrs. Williamson labored
under some dulness of hearing; and it was
conjectured that the servant, having her ears
filled with the noise of her own scrubbing, and

Ebree MAemorable Aburber

133

her head half under the grate, might have confounded it with the street noises, or else might
have imputed this violent closure to some
mischievous boys. But, howsoever explained,
the fact was evident, that, until the words of
appeal to Christ, the servant had noticed nothing suspicious, nothing which interrupted her
labors. If so, it followed that neither had Mrs.
Williamson noticed any thing; for, in that case,
she would have communicated her own alarm
to the servant, since both were in the same
small room. Apparently the course of things
after the murderer had entered the room was
this: Mrs. Williamson had probably not seen
him, from the accident of standing with her
back to the door. Her, therefore, before he
was himself observed at all, he had stunned and
prostrated by a shattering blow on the back of
her head; this blow, inflicted by a crow-bar,
had smashed in the hinder part of the skull.
She fell; and by the noise of her fall (for all
was the work of a moment) had first roused the
attention of the servant; who then uttered the
cry which had reached the young man; but
before she could repeat it, the murderer had
descended with his uplifted instrument upon
her head, crushing the skull inwards upon the
brain. Both the women were irrecoverably
destroyed, so that further outrages were need-

134

Cbree Memorable AMurbers

less; and, moreover, the murderer was conscious
of the imminent danger from delay; and yet, in
spite of his hurry, so fully did he appreciate the
fatal consequences to himself, if any of his
victims should so far revive into consciousness
as to make circumstantial depositions, that, by
way of making this impossible, he had proceeded instantly to cut the throats of each. All
this tallied with the appearances as now presenting themselves.
Mrs. Williamson had
fallen backwards with her head to the door;
the servant, from her kneeling posture, had
been incapable of rising, and had presented her
head passively to blows; after which, the
miscreant had but to bend her head backwards
so as to expose her throat, and the murder was
finished.
It is remarkable that the young artisan, paralyzed as he had been by fear, and evidently
fascinated for a time so as to walk right towards
the lion's mouth, yet found himself able to
notice every thing important. The reader must
suppose him at this point watching the murderer whilst hanging over the body of Mrs.
Williamson, and whilst renewing his search for
certain important keys. Doubtless it was an
anxious situation for the murderer; for, unless
he speedily found the keys wanted, all this
hideous tragedy would end in nothing but a

Cbree MAemorable Aburerb

135

prodigious increase to the public horror, in
tenfold precautions 'therefore, and redoubled
obsta.les interposed between himself and his
future game. Nay, there was even a nearer
interest at stake; his own immediate safety
might, by a probable accident, be compromised.
Most of those who came to the house for liquor
were giddy girls or children, who, on finding
this house closed, would go off carelessly to
some other; but, let any thoughtful woman or
man come to the door now, a full quarter of an
hour before the established time of closing, in
that case suspicion would arise too powerful to
be checked. There would be a sudden alarm
given; after which, mere luck would decide the
event. For it is a remarkable fact, and one
that illustrates the singular inconsistency of
this villain, who, being often so superfluously
subtle, was in other directions so reckless and
improvident, that at this very moment, standing
amongst corpses that had deluged the little
parlor with blood, Williams must have been in
considerable doubt whether he had any sure
means of egress. There were windows, he
knew, to the back; but upon what ground
they opened, he seems to have had no certain
information; and in a neighborhood so dangerous, the windows of the lower story would not
improbably be nailed down; those in the upper

i36

Cbree AifMemorable f1Aiurers

might be free, but then came the necessity of a
leap too formidabie. From all this, however,
the sole practical inference was to hurry forward
with the trial of further keys, and to detect the
hidden treasure. This it was, this intense absorption in one overmastering pursuit, that
dulled the murderer's perceptions as to all
around him; otherwise, he must have heard
the breathing of the young man, which to himself at times became fearfully audible. As the
murderer stood once more over the body of Mrs.
Williamson, and searched her pockets more narrowly, he pulled out various clusters of keys, one
of which dropping, gave a harsh gingling sound
upon the floor. At this time it was that the secret
witness, from his secret stand, noticed the fact of
William's surtout being lined with silk of the
finest quality. One other fact he noticed, which
eventually became more immediately important
than many stronger circumstances of incrimination; this was that the shoes of the murderer,
apparently new, and bought, probably, with
poor Marr's money, creaked as he walked,
harshly and frequently. With the new clusters
of keys the murderer walked off to the hidden
section of the parlor. And here, at last, was
suggested to the journeyman the sudden opening for an escape. Some minutes would be
lost to a certainty trying all these keys, and

Cbree MII1emorable Iflurber

137
3

subsequently in searching the drawers, supposing that the keys answered; -r in violently
forcing them, supposing that they did not. He
might .thus count upon a brief interval of leisure, whilst the rattling of the keys might obscure to the murderer the creaking of the stairs
under the re-ascending journeyman. His plan
was now formed: on regaining his bedroom he
placed the bed against the door by way of a
transient retardation to the enemy, that might
give him a short warning, and, in the worst extremity, might give him a chance for life by
means of a desperate leap. This change made
as quietly as possible, he tore the sheets, pillowcases, and blankets into broad ribbons, and
after plaiting them into ropes, spliced the different lengths together. But at the very first he
descries this ugly addition to his labors. Where
shall he look for any staple, hook, bar, or other
fixture, from which his rope, when twisted,
may safely depend? Measured from the window-sill,-i. e., the lowest part of the window
architrave-there count but twenty-two or
twenty-three feet to the ground. Of this length
ten or twelve feet may be looked upon as cancelled, because to that extent he might drop
without danger. So much being deducted,
there would remain, say, a dozen feet of rope to
prepare. But, unhappily, there is no stout iron

i38

Cbree Memorable Iburbers

fixture anywhere about his window.
The
nearest, indeed. the sole fixture of that sort, is
not near to the window at all ; it is a spike fixed
(for no reason at all that is apparent) in-.the
bed-tester; now, the bed being shifted, the
spike is shifted; and its distance from the window, having been always four feet, is now
seven. Seven entire feet, therefore, must be
added to that which would have sufficed, if
measured from the window. But courage!
God, by the proverb of all nations in Christendom, helps those that help themselves. This
our young man thankfully acknowledges; he
reads already, in the very fact of any spike at
all being found where hitherto it had been useless, an earnest of providential aid. Were it
only for himself that he worked, he could not
feel himself meritoriously employed; but this
is not so; in deep sincerity, he is now agitated
for the poor child, whom he knows and loves;
every minute, he feels, brings ruin nearer to
her, and as he passed her door his first thought
had been to take her out of bed in his arms, and
to carry her where she might share his chances.
But, on consideration, he felt that this sudden
awaking of her, and the impossibility of even
whispering any explanation, would cause her
to cry audibly, and the inevitable indiscretion
of one would be fatal to the two. As the Alpine

Ubree fIemorable AMurbere

139

avalanches, when suspended above the traveller's head, oftentimes (we are told) come down
through the stirring of the air by a simple whisper, precisely on such a tenure of a whisper
was now suspended the murderous malice of the
man below. No; there is but one way to save
the child; towards her deliverance the first step
And he has made an exis through his own.
cellent beginning; for the spike, which too
fearfully he had expected to see torn away by
any strain upon the half-carious wood, stands
firmly when tried against the pressure of his
own weight. He had rapidly fastened on to it
three lengths of his new rope, measuring eleven
feet. He plaits it roughly ; so that only three
feet have been lost in the intertwisting; he has
spliced on a second length equal to the first; so
that already sixteen feet are ready to throw out
of the window; and thus, let the worst come to
the worst, it will not be absolute ruin to swarm
down the rope so far as it will reach, and then
to drop boldly. All this has been accomplished
in about six minutes, and the hot contest between above and below is steadily but fervently
proceeding. Murderer is working hard in the
parlor; journeyman is working hard in the
bedroom. Miscreant is getting on famously
down-stairs; one batch of bank-notes he has
already bagged, and is hard upon the scent of

140

Cbree IMemorable Aurbers

a second. He has also sprung a covey of golden
coins. Sovereigns as yet were not; but guineas
at this period fetched thirty shilling a-piece;
and he has worked his way into a little quarry
of these. Murderer is almost joyous; and if
any creature is still living in this house, as
shrewdly he suspects, and very soon means to
know, with that creature he would be happy,
before cutting the creature's throat, to drink a
glass of something. Instead of the glass, might
he not make a present to the poor creature of
its throat? Oh no! impossible! Throats are
asort of thing that he never makes presents of;
business--business must be attended to. Really
the two men, considered simply as men of business, are both meritorious. Like chorus and
semi-chorus, strophe and antistrophe, they work
each against the other. Pull journeyman, pull
murderer! Pull baker! pull devil!
As regards the journeyman, he is now safe. To his
sixteen feet, of which seven are neutralized by
the distance of the bed, he has at last added six
feet more, which will be short of reaching the
ground by perhaps ten feet,-a trifle which
man or boy may drop without injury. All is
safe, therefore, for him: which is more than
one can be sure of for miscreant in the parlor.
Miscreant, however, takes it coolly enough,
the reason being that, with all his cleverness,

Cbree Aemorable AIuthers

141

for once in his life miscreant has been overreached. The reader and I know, but miscreant
does not in the least suspect, a little fact of
some imi portance, viz., that just now through a
space of full three minutes he has been overlooked and studied by one who (though reading
in a dreadful book and suffering under mortal
panic) took accurate notes of so much as his
limited opportunities allowed him to see, and
will assuredly report the creaking shoes and
the silk-mounted surtout in quarters where
such little fa:cts will tell very little to his advantage. But, although it is true that Mr. Williams,
unaware of the journeyman's having " assisted"
at the examination of Mrs. Williamson's pockets, could not connect any anxiety with that
person's subsequent proceedings, nor specially,
therefore, with his having embarked in the
rope-weaving line, assuredly he knew of
reasons enough for not loitering. And yet
he did loiter. Reading his acts by the light
of such mute traces as he left behind
him, the police became aware that latterly
And the reason
he must have loitered.
which governed him is striking; because at once
it records-that murder was not pursued by him
simply as a means to an end, but also as an end
for itself. Mr. Williams had now been on the
premises for perhaps fifteel or twenty minutes;

142

bree Hemorabte Aurbers

and in that space of time he had dispatched, in
a style satisfactory to himself, a considerable
amount of business. He had done, in commercial language, " a good stroke of business."
Upon two floors, viz., the cellar-floor and the
ground-floor, he has "accounted for" all the
population. But there remained at least two
floors more; and it now occurred to Mr. Williams
that, although the landlord's somewhat chilling
manner had shut him out from any familiar
knowledge of the household arrangements, too
probably on one or other of those floors there
must be some throats. As to plunder, he has
already bagged the whole. And it was next to
impossible that any arrear the most trivial
should still remain for a gleaner.
But the
throats-the throats-there it was that arrears
and gleanings might perhaps be counted on.
And thus it appeared that, in his wolfish thirst
for blood, Mr. Williams put to hazard the whole
fruits of his night's work, and his life into the
bargain. At this moment, if the murderer knew
all, could he see the open window above stairs
ready for the descent of the journeyman, could
he witness the life-and-death rapidity with which
that journeyman is working, could he guess at
the almighty uproar which within ninety seconds
will be maddening the population of this populous district-no picture of a maniac in flight

Cbree tIemorable AsNurbere

143

of panic or in pursuit of vengeance would adequately represent the agony of haste with which
he would himself be hurrying to the street-door
for final evasion. That mode of escape was still
free. Even at this moment, there yet remained
time sufficient for a successful flight, and, therefore, for the following revolution in the romance
of his own abominable life. He had in his
pockets above a hundred pounds of booty;
means, therefore, for a full disguise. This very
night, if he will shave off his yellow hair, and
blacken his eyebrows, buying, when morning
light returns, a dark-colored wig, and clothes
such as may co6perate in personating the character of a grave professional man, he may elude
all suspicions of impertinent policemen ; may
sail by any one of a hundred vessels bound for
any port along the huge line of sea-board
(stretching through twenty-four hundred miles)
of the American United States; may enjoy fifty
years for leisurely repentance; and may even
die in the odor of sanctity. On the other hand,
if he prefer active life, it is not impossible that,
with his subtlety, hardihood, and unscrupulousness, in a land where the simple process of
naturalization converts the alien at once into a
child of the family, he might rise to the president's chair; might have a statue at his death ;
and afterwards a life in three volumes quarto,

144

Zbree

emorable Ai~urbers

with no hint glancing towards No. 29 Ratcliffe
Highway. But all depends on the next ninety
seconds. Within that time there is a sharp turn
to be taken ; there is a wrong turn, and a right
turn. Should his better angel guide him to the
right one, all may yet go well as regards this
world's prosperity. But behold! in two minutes
from this point we shall see him take the wrong
one: and then Nemesis will be at his heels with
ruin perfect and sudden.
Meantime, if the murderer allows himself to
loiter, the rope-maker overhead does not. Well
he knows that the poor child's fate is on the
edge of a razor: for all turns upon the alarm
being raised before the murderer reaches her
And at this very moment, whilst
bedside.
desperate agitation is nearly paralyzing his
fingers, he hears the sullen stealthy step of the
murderer creeping up through the darkness. It
had been the expectation of the journeyman
(founded on the clamorous uproar with which
the street-door was slammed) that Williams,
when disposable for his up-stairs work, would
come racing at a long jubilant gallop, and with
a tiger roar; and perhaps, on his natural instincts, he would have done so. But this mode
of approach, which was of dreadful effect when
applied to a case of surprise, became dangerous
in the case of people who might by this time

Ebree Memorable Hurbers

145

have been placed fully upon their guard. The
step which he had heard was on the staircasebut upon which stair? He fancied upon the
lowest: and in a movement so slow and cautious, even this might make all the difference;
yet might it not have been the tenth, twelfth,
or fourteenth stair? Never, perhaps, in this
world did any man feel his own responsibility
so cruelly loaded and strained, as at this moment did the poor journeyman on behalf of
the slumbering child. Lose but two seconds,
through awkwardness or through the selfcounteractions of panic, and for her the total
difference arose between life and death. Still
there is a hope : and nothing-can so frightfully
expound the hellish nature of him whose baleful shadow, to speak astrologically, at this moment darkens the house of life, than the simple
expression of the ground on which this hope
rested. The journeyman felt sure that the
murderer would not be satisfied to kill the poor
child whilst unconscious. This would be to
defeat his whole purpose in murdering her at
all. To an epicure in murder such as Williams,
it would be taking away the very sting of the
enjoyment, if the poor child should be suffered
to drink off the bitter cup of death without fully
apprehending the misery of the situation. But
this luckily would require time: the double

146

Cbree MiAemorabte lburbers

confusion of mind, first, from being roused up
at so unusual an hour, and, secondly, from the
horror of the occasion when explained to her,
would at first produce fainting, or some mode
of insensibility or distraction, such as must
occupy a considerable time. The logic of the
case, in short, all rested upon the ultra fiendishness of Williams. Were he likely to be content
with the mere fact of the child's death, apart
from the process and leisurely expansion of its
mental agony-in that case there would be no
hope. But, because our present murderer is
fastidiously finical in his exactions-a sort of
martinet in the scenical grouping and draping
of the circumstances in his murders-therefore
it is that hope becomes reasonable, since all
such refinements of preparation demand time.
Murders of mere necessity Williams was obliged
to hurry ; but, in a murder of pure voluptuousness, entirely disinterested, where no hostile
witness was to be removed, no extra booty to
be gained, and no revenge to be gratified, it is
clear that to hurry would be altogether to ruin.
If this child, therefore, is to be saved, it will be
on pure oesthetical considerations.*
* Let the reader, who is disposed to regard as exaggerated or romantic the pure fiendishness imputed
to Williams, recollect that, except for the luxurious
purpose of basking and revelling in the anguish of
dying despair, he had no motive at all, small or great,
for attempting the murder of this young girl. She had

Cbree Memorable ASurbers

147

But all considerations whatever are at this
moment suddenly cut short. A second step is
heard on the stairs, but still stealthy and cautious; a third-and then the child's doom seems
fixed. But just at that moment all is ready.
The window is wide open; the rope is swinging
free; the journeyman has launched himself;
and already he is in the first stage of his descent. Simply by the weight of his person he
descended, and by the resistance of his hands
he retarded the descent. The danger was, that
the rope should run too smoothly through his
hands, and that by too rapid an acceleration of
pace he should come violently to the ground.
Happily, he was able to resist the descending
impetus : the knots of the splicings furnished a
succession of retardation. But the rope proved
shorter by four or five feet than he had calculated: ten or eleven feet from the ground he
hung suspended in the air; speechless for the
present, through long-continued agitation; and
not daring to drop boldly on the rough carriage
pavement, lest he should fracture his legs. But
the night was not dark, as it had been on occasion of the Marr murders. And yet, for purseen nothing, heard nothing-was fast asleep, and her
door was closed; so that, as a witness against him, he
knew that she was as useless as any one of the three
corpses. And yet he was making preparations for her
murder, when the alarm in the street interrupted him.

148

Cbree Memorable AHurbers

poses of criminal police, it was by accident
worse than the darkest night that ever hid a
murder or baffled a pursuit. London, from east

to west, was covered with a deep pall (rising
from the river) of universal fog. Hence it happened, that for twenty or thirty seconds the
young man hanging in the air was not observed.
His white shirt at length attracted notice.
Three or four people ran up, and received him
in their arms, all anticipating some dreadful
annunciation. To what house did he belong?

Even that was not instantly apparent; but he
pointed with his finger to Williamson's door,
and said in a half-choking whisper: " Marr's

murderer,now at work ! "
All explained itself in a moment : the silent
language of the fact- made its own eloquent
revelation. The mysterious exterminator of
No. 29 Ratcliffe Highway had visited another
house; and, behold ! one man only had escaped
through the air, and in his night-dress, to tell
the tale. Superstitiously, there was something
to check the pursuit of this unintelligible criminal. Morally, and in the interests of vindictive
justice, there was every thing to rouse, quicken,
and sustain it.
Yes, Marr's murderer-the man of mysterywas again at work; at this moment perhaps
extinguishing some lamp of life, and not at any

Ubree 1emorable AHMurbere

:49

remote place, but here-in the very house which
the listeners to this dreadful announcement
were actually touching. The chaos and blind
uproar of the scene which followed, measured
by the crowded reports in the journals of many
subsequent days, and in one feature of that case,
has never to my knowledge had its parallel; or,
if a parallel, only in one case-what followed, I
mean, on the acquittal of the seven bishops at
Westminster in i688. At present there was
more than passionate enthusiasm. The frenzied
movement of mixed horror and exultation-the
ululation of vengeance which ascended instantaneously from the individual street, and then
by a sublime sort of magnetic contagion from
all the adjacent streets, can be adequately expressed only by a rapturous passage in Shelley:
" The transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness
Spread through the multitudinous streets, fast flying
Upon the wings of fear :-From his dull madness
The starveling waked, and died in joy : the dying,
Among the corpses in stark agony lying,
Just heard the happy tidings, and in hope
Closed their faint eyes : from house to house replying
With loud acclaim the living shook heaven's cope,
And fill'd the startled earth with echoes." *

There was something, indeed, half inexplicable
in the instantaneous interpretation of the gath* " Revolt of Islam, " canto xii.

50o

btree Aflemorable tiurber

ering shout according to its true meaning. In
fact, the deadly roar of vengeance, and its sublime unity, could point in this district only to
the one demon whose idea had brooded and
tyrannized, for twelve days, over the general
heart: every door, every window in the neighborhood, flew open as if at a word of command;
multitudes, without waiting for the regular
means of egress, leaped down at once from the
windows on the lower story; sick men rose
from their beds; in one instance, as if expressly
to verify the image of Shelley (in v. 4, 5, 6, 7),
a man whose death had been looked for through
some days, and who actually did die on the following day, rose, armed himself with a sword,
and descended in his shirt into the street. The
chance was a good one, and the mob were made
aware of it, for catching the wolfish dog in the
high noon and carnival of his bloody revelsin the very centre of his own shambles. For a
moment the mob was self-baffled by its own
numbers and its own fury. But even that fury
felt the call for self-control. It was evident that
the massy street-door must be driven in, since
there was no longer any living person to co6perate with their efforts from within, excepting
only a female child. Crowbars dexterously applied in one minute threw the door out of hangings, and the people entered like a torrent. It

Ibree lMemorable iMurber

1s5

may be guessed with what fret and irritation to
their consuming fury, a signal of pause and absolute silence was made by a person of local importance. In the hope of receiving some useful
communication, the mob became silent. "Now
listen," said the man of authority, " and we shall
learn whether he is above-stairs or below." Immediately a noise was heard as if of some one
forcing windows, and clearly the sound came
from a bedroom above. Yes, the fact was apparent that the murderer was even yet in the
house: he had been caught in a trap. Not having made himself familiar with the details of
Williamson's house, to all appearance he had
suddenly become a prisoner in one of the upper
rooms. Towards this the crowd now rushed impetuously. The door, however, was found to be
slightly fastened; and, at the moment when this
was forced, a loud crash of the window, both
glass and frame, announced that the wretch had
made his escape. He had leaped down; and
several persons in the crowd, who burned with
the general fury, leaped after him. These persons had not troubled themselves about the nature of the ground; but now, on making an examination of it with torches, they reported it to
be an inclined plane, or embankment of clay,
very wet and adhesive. The prints of the man's
footsteps were deeply impressed upon the clay,

152

Cbree Memorable AIlurbers

and therefore easily traced up to the summit of
the embankment; but it was perceived at once
that pursuit would be useless, from the density
of the mist. Two feet ahead of you, a man was
entirely withdrawn from your power of identification; and, on overtaking him, you could not
venture to challenge him as the same whom you
had lost sight of. Never, through the course of
a whole century, could there be a night expected more propitious to an escaping criminal:
means of disguise Williams now had in excess ;
and the dens were innumerable in the neighborhood of the river that could have sheltered
him for years from troublesome inquiries. But
favors are thrown away upon the reckless and
the thankless. That night, when the turningpoint offered itself for his whole future career,
Williams took the wrong turn; for, out of mere
indolence, he took the turn to his old lodgings
-that place which, in all England, he had just
now the most reason to shun.
Meantime the crowd had thoroughly searched
the premises of Williamson. The first inquiry
was for the young grand-daughter. Williams,
it was evident, had gone into her room : but in
this room apparently it was that the sudden
uproar in the streets had surprised him; after
which his undivided attention had been directed
to the windows, since through these only any

Cbree Mfemorable iurers

153

retreat had been left open to him. Even this
retreat he owed only to the fog and to the hurry
of the moment, and to the difficulty of approaching the premises by the rear. The little girl was
naturally agitated by the influx of strangers at
that hour ; but otherwise, through the humane
precautions of the neighbors, she was preserved
from all knowledge of the dreadful events that
had occurred whilst she herself was sleeping.
Her poor old grandfather was still missing, until the crowd descended into the cellar; he was
then found lying prostrate on the cellar floor:
apparently he had been thrown down from the
top of the cellar stairs, and with so much violence, that one leg was broken. After he had
been thus disabled, Williams had gone down to
him, and cut his throat. There was much discussion at the time, in some of the public journals, upon the possibility of reconciling these
incidents with other circumstantialities of the
case, supposing that only one man had been
concerned in the affair. That there was only one
man concerned, seems to be certain. One only
was seen or heard at Marr's : one only, and beyond all doubt the same man, was seen by the
young journeyman in Mrs. Williamson's parlor;
and one only was traced by his footmarks on
the clay embankment. Apparently the course
which he had pursued was this: he had intro-

154

Cbree Aemorable Isurers

duced himself to Williamson by ordering some
beer. This order would oblige the old man to
go down into the cellar; Williams would wait
untilhe had reached it, and would th en "slam"
and lock the street-door in the violent way described. Williamson would come up in agitation upon hearing this violence. The murderer,
aware that he would do so, met him, no doubt,
at the head of the cellar stairs, and threw him
down; after which he would go down to consummate the murder in his ordinary way. All
this would occupy a minute, or a minute and a
half; and in that way the interval would be accounted for that elapsed between the alarming
sound of the street-door as heard by the journeyman, and the lamentable outcry of the female servant. It is evident also, that the reason
why no cry whatsoever had been heard from the
lips of Mrs. Williamson, is due to the positions
of the parties as I have sketched them. Coming
behind Mrs. Williamson, unseen therefore, and
from her deafness unheard, the murderer would
inflict entire abolition of consciousness while
she was yet unaware of his presence. But with
the servant, who had unavoidably witnessed the
attack upon her mistress, the murderer could
not obtain the same fulness of advantage; and
she therefore had time for making an agonizing
ejaculation.

Cbree Memorable lurbers

55

It has been mentioned that the murderer of
the Marrs was not for nearly a fortnight so
much as suspected; meaning that, previously
to the Williamson murder, no vestige of any
ground for suspicion in any direction whatever
had occurred either to the general public or to
the police. But there were two very limited
exceptions to this state of absolute ignorance.
Some of the magistrates had in their possession
something which, when closely examined, offered a very probable means for tracing the
criminal. But as yet they had not traced him.
Until the Friday morning next after the destruction of the Williamsons, they had not published the important fact, that upon the shipcarpenter's mallet (with which, as regarded the
stunning or disabling process, the murders had
been achieved) were inscribed the letters "J.
P." This mallet had, by a strange oversight on
the part of the murderer, been left behind in
Marr's shop; and it is an interesting fact, therefore, that, had the villain been intercepted by
the brave pawnbroker, he would have been met
virtually disarmed. This public notification was
made officially on the Friday, viz., on the thirteenth day after the first murder. And it was
instantly followed (as will be seen) by a most
important result. Meantime, within the secrecy
of one single bedroom in all London, it is a fact

156

Cbree IMemorable fiIurbers

that Williams had been whisperingly the object
of very deep suspicion from the very first-that
is, within that same hour which witnessed the
Marr tragedy. And singular it is, that the suspicion was due entirely to his own folly. Williams lodged, in company with other men of
various nations, at a public-house. In a large
dormitory there were arranged five or six beds;
these were occupied by artisans, generally of
respectable character. One or two Englishmen there were, one or two Scotchmen, three
or four Germans, and Williams, whose birthplace was not certainly known. On the fatal
Saturday night, about half-past one o'clock,
when Williams returned from his dreadful labors, he found the English and Scotch party
asleep, but the Germans awake: one of them
was sitting up with a lighted candle in his
hands, and reading aloud to the other two.
Upon this, Williams said, in an angry and very
peremptory tone: " Oh, put that candle out;
put it out directly; we shall all be burned in
our beds." Had the British party in the room
been awake, Mr. Williams would have roused a
mutinous protest against this arrogant mandate.
But Germans are generally mild and facile in
their tempers; so the light was complaisantly
extinguished. Yet, as there were no curtains,
it struck the Germans that the danger was really

Cbree ie emorable AIurer

157

none at all; for bed-clothes, massed upon each
other, will no more burn than the leaves of a
closed book. Privately, therefore, the Germans
drew an inference, that Mr. Williams must have
had some urgent motive for withdrawing his
own person and dress from observation. What
this motive might be, the next day's news
diffused all over London, and of course at
this house, not two furlongs from Marr's shop,
made awfully evident; and, as may well be
supposed, the suspicion was communicated to
the other members of the dormitory. All of
them, however, were aware of the legal danger
attaching, under English law, to insinuations
against a man, even if true, which might not
admit of proof. In reality, had Williams used
the most obvious precautions, had he simply
walked down to the Thames (not a stone'sthrow distant), and flung two of his implements
into the river, no conclusive proof could have
been adduced against him. And he might have
realized the scheme of Courvoisier (the murderer
of Lord William Russell)-viz., have sought
each separate month's support in a separate
well-concerted murder. The party in the dormitory, meantime, were satisfied themselves,
but waited for evidences that might satisfy
others. No sooner, therefore, had the official
notice been published as to the initials J. P. on

158

Cbree Memorable Murbers

the mallet, than every man in the house recognized at once the well-known initials of an
honest Norwegian ship-carpenter, John Petersen, who had worked in the English dockyards
until the present year; but having occasion to
revisit his native land, had left his box of tools
in the garrets of this inn. These garrets were
now searched. Petersen's tool-chest was found,
but wanting the mallet; and, on further examination, another overwhelming discovery was
made. The surgeon, who examined the corpses
at Williamson's, had given it as his opinion
that the throats were not cut by means of a
razor, but of some implement differently shaped.
It was now remembered that Williams had
recently borrowed a large French knife of
peculiar construction; and accordingly, from a
heap of old lumber and rags, there was soon
extricated a waistcoat, which the whole house
could swear to as recently worn by Williams.
In this waistcoat, and glued by gore to the
linings of its pockets, was found the French
knife. Next, it was matter of notoriety to
everybody in the inn, that Williams ordinarily
wore at present a pair of creaking shoes, and a
brown surtout lined with silk. Many other
presumptions seemed scarcely called for. Williams was immediately apprehended, and briefly
examined. This was on the Friday. On the

Cbree Alemorable IfIurbers

159

Saturday morning (viz., fourteen days from the
Marr murders) he was again brought up. The
circumstantial evidence was overwhelming;
Williams watched its course, but said very
little. At the close, he was fully committed
for trial at the next sessions ; and it is needless
to say, that, on his road to prison, he was pursued by mobs so fierce, that, under ordinary
circumstances, there would have been small
hope of escaping summary vengeance. But
upon this occasion a powerful escort had been
provided; so that he was safely lodged in jail.
In this particular jail at this time, the regulation
was, that at five o'clock P.M. all the prisoners on
the criminal side should be finally locked up for
the night, and without candles. For fourteen
hours (that is, until seven o'clock on the next
morning) they were left unvisited, and in total
darkness. Time, therefore, Williams had for
committing suicide. The means in other respects were small. One iron bar there was,
meant (if I remember) for the suspension of a
lamp; upon this he had hanged himself by his
braces. At what hour was uncertain: some
people fancied at midnight. And in that case,
precisely at the hour when, fourteen days
before, he had been spreading horror and desolation through the quiet family of poor Marr,
now was he forced into drinking of the same

16o

Cbree ASemorable Aurbers

cup, presented to his lips by the same accursed
hands.

The case of the M'Keans, which has been
specially alluded to, merits also a slight rehearsal for the dreadful picturesqueness of
some two or three amongst its circumstances.
The scene of this murder was at a rustic inn,
some few miles (I think) from Manchester; and
the advantageous situation of this inn it was,
out of which arose the twofold temptations of
the case. Generally speaking, an inn argues,
of course, a close cincture of neighbors-as the
original motive for opening such an establishment. But, in this case, the house individually
was solitary, so that no interruption was to be
looked for from any person living within reach
of screams; and yet, on the other hand, the
circumjacent vicinity was eminently populous;
as one consequence of which, a benefit club had
established its weekly rendezvous in this inn,
and left the pecuniary accumulations in their
club-room, under the custody of the landlord.
This fund arose often to a considerable amount,
fifty or seventy pounds, before it was transferred
to the hands of a banker. Here, therefore, was
a treasure worth some little risk, and a situation
that promised next to none. These attractive

Cbree

Me~cmorable

tHurber

161
i

circumstances had, by accident, become accurately known to one or both of the two
M'Keans; and, unfortunately, at a moment
of overwhelming misfortune to themselves.
They were hawkers; and, until lately, had
borne most respectable characters: but some
mercantile crash had overtaken them with
utter ruin, in which their joint capital had been
swallowed up to the last shilling. This sudden
prostration had made them desperate; their
own little property had been swallowed up in a
large social catastrophe, and society at large
they looked upon as accountable to them for a
robbery. In preying, therefore, upon society,
they considered themselves as pursuing a wild
natural justice of retaliation. The money aimed
at did certainly assume the character of public
money, being the product of many separate
subscriptions. They forgot, however, that in
the murderous acts, which too certainly they
meditated as preliminaries to the robbery, they
could plead no such imaginary social precedent.
In dealing with a family that seemed almost
helpless, if all went smoothly, they relied
entirely upon their own bodily strength. They
were stout young men, twenty-eight to thirtytwo years old; somewhat undersized as to
height; but squarely built, deep-chested, broadshouldered, and so beautifully formed, as re-

162

Cbree MAemorable 1 Surbere

garded the symmetry of their limbs and their
articulations, that, after their execution, the
bodies were privately exhibited by the surgeons
of the Manchester Infirmary as objects of
statuesque interest. On the other hand, the
household which they proposed to attack consisted of the following four persons: I. the
landlord, a stoutish farmer--but him they intended to disable by a trick then newly
introduced amongst robbers, and termed hocussing, i. e., clandestinely drugging the liquor of
the victim with laudanum; 2. the landlord's
wife; 3. a young woman servant; 4. a boy
twelve or fourteen years old. The danger was,
that out of four persons, scattered by possibility over a house which had two separate exits,
one at least might escape, and by better acquaintance with the adjacent paths, might
succeed in giving an alarm to some of the
houses a furlong distant. Their final resolution
was, to be guided by circumstances as to the
mode of conducting the affair; and yet, as it
seemed essential to success that they should
assume the air of strangers to each other, it was
necessary that they should preconcert some
general outline of their plan; since it would
on this scheme be impossible, without awaking
violent suspicions, to make any communications
under the eyes of the family. This outline in-

Cbree lMiemorable Alurbero

163

cluded, at the least, one murder: so much was
settled; but, otherwise, their subsequent proceedings make it evident that they wished to
have as little bloodshed as was consistent with
their final object. On the appointed day they
presented themselves separately at the rustic
inn, and at different hours. One came as early
as four o'clock in the afternoon ; the other not
until half-past seven. They saluted each other
distantly and shyly; and, though occasionally
exchanging a few words in the character of
strangers, did not seem disposed to any familiar
intercourse. With the landlord, however, on
his return about eight o'clock from Manchester,
one of the brothers entered into a lively conversation; invited him to take a tumbler of punch;
and, at a moment when the landlord's absence
from the room allowed it, poured into the punch
a spoonful of laudanum. Some time after this,
the clock struck ten; upon which the elder
M'Kean, professing to be weary, asked to be
shown up to his bedroom: for each brother,
immediately on arriving, had engaged a bed.
On this, the poor servant girl had presented
herself with a bed-candle to light him upstairs.
At this critical moment the family were distributed thus:--the landlord, stupefied with the
horrid narcotic which he had drunk, had retired
to a private room adjoining the public room, for

164

Gbree Memorable

urbers

the purpose of reclining upon a sofa: and he,
luckily for his own safety, was looked upon as
entirely incapacitated for action. The landlady
was occupied with her husband. And thus the
younger M'Kean was left alone in the public
room. He rose, therefore, softly, and placed
himself at the foot of the stairs which his
brother had just ascended, so as to be sure of
intercepting any fugitive from the bed-room
above. Into that room the elder M'Kean was
ushered by the servant, who pointed to two
beds-one of which was already half occupied
by the boy, and the other empty: in these, she
intimated that the two strangers must dispose
of themselves for the night, according to any
arrangement that they might agree upon. Saying this, she presented him with the candle,
which he in a moment placed upon the table;
and, intercepting her retreat from the room,
threw his arm round her neck with a gesture
as though he meant to kiss her. This was
evidently what she herself anticipated, and
endeavored to prevent. Her horror may be
imagined, when she felt the perfidious hand
that clasped her neck armed with a razor, and
violently cutting her throat. She was hardly
able to utter one scream, before she sank powerless upon the floor. This dreadful spectacle was
witnessed by the boy, who was not asleep, but had

Cbree

erorable AHurters

165

presence of mind enough instantly to close his
eyes. The murderer advanced hastily to the bed,
and anxiously examined the expression of the
boy's features : satisfied he was not, and he then
placed his hand upon the boy's heart, in order to
judge by its beatings whether he were agitated or
not. This was a dreadful trial: and no doubt the
counterfeit sleep would immediately have been
detected, when suddenly a dreadful spectacle
drew off the attention of the murderer. Solemnly, and in ghostly silence, uprose in her dying
delirium the murdered girl; she stood upright,
she walked steadily for a moment or two, she
bent her steps towards the door. The murderer
turned away to pursue her; and at that moment
the boy, feeling that his one solitary chance was
to fly while this scene was in progress, bounded
out of bed. On the landing at the head of the
stairs was one murderer, at the foot of the stairs
was the other: who could believe that the boy
had the shadow of a chance for escaping ? And
yet, in the most natural way, he surmounted all
hindrances. In the boy's horror, he laid his
left hand on the balustrade, and took a flying
leap over it, which landed him at the bottom
of the stairs, without having touched a single
stair. He had thus effectually passed one of the
murderers : the other, it is true, was still to be
passed; and this would have been impossible

166

Cbree AM1emorable I urbers

but for a sudden accident. The landlady had
been alarmed by the faint scream of the young
woman; had hurried from her private room to
the girl's assistance; but at the foot of the stairs
had been intercepted by the younger brother,
and was at this moment struggling with him.
The confusion of this life-and-death conflict had
allowed the boy to whirl past them. Luckily
he took a turn into a kitchen, out of which was
a back-door, fastened by a single bolt, that ran
freely at a touch; and through this door he
rushed into the open fields. But at this moment
the elder brother was set free for pursuit by the
death of the poor girl. There is no doubt, that
in her delirium the image moving through her
thoughts was that of the club, which met once
a-week. She fancied it no doubt sitting; and
to this room, for help and for safety she staggered along; she entered it, and within the
doorway once more she dropped down, and
Her murderer, who had
instantly expired.
followed her closely, now saw himself set at
liberty for the pursuit of the boy. At this
critical moment, all was at stake; unless the
boy were caught, the enterprise was ruined.
He passed his brother, therefore, and the landlady without pausing, and rushed through the
open door into the fields. By a single second,
perhaps, he was too late. The boy was keenly

Cbree A emorable Aurber

167

aware that if he continued in sight he would
have no chance of escaping from a powerful
young man. He made, therefore, at once for a
ditch, into which he tumbled headlong. Had
the murderer ventured to make a leisurely examination of the nearest ditch, he would easily
have found the boy-made so conspicuous by
his white shirt. But he lost all heart, upon
failing at once to arrest the boy's flight. And
every succeeding second made his despair the
greater. If the boy had really effected his
escape to the neighboring farm-house, a party
of men might be gathered within five minutes;
and already it might have become difficult for
himself and his brother, unacquainted with the
field paths, to evade being intercepted. Nothing remained, therefore, but to summon his
brother away. Thus it happened that the landlady, though mangled, escaped with life, and
eventually recovered. The landlord owed his
And the
safety to the stupefying potion.
baffled murderers had the misery of knowing
that their dreadful crime had been altogether
profitless. The road, indeed, was now open to
the club-room; and, probably, forty seconds
would have sufficed to carry off the box of
treasure, which afterwards might have been
burst open and pillaged at leisure. But the fear
of intercepting enemies was too strongly upon

168

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emorabIe iurers

them; and they fled rapidly by a road which
carried them actually within six feet of the
lurking boy. That night they passed through
Manchester. When daylight returned, they
slept in a thicket twenty miles distant from the
scene of their guilty attempt. On the second
and third nights they pursued their march on
foot, resting again during the day. About sunrise on the fourth morning they were entering
some' village near Kirby Lonsdale, in Westmoreland. They must have designedly quitted
the direct line of route, for their object was
Ayrshire, of which county they were natives;
and the regular road would have led them
Probably
through Shap, Penrith, Carlisle.
they were seeking to elude the persecution of
the stage-coaches, which, for the last thirty
hours, had been scattering at all the inns and
road-side cabarets hand-bills describing their
persons and dress. It happened (perhaps
through design) that on this fourth morning
they had separated, so as to enter the village
ten minutes apart from each other. They were
exhausted and footsore. In this condition it
was easy to stop them. A blacksmith had
silently reconnoitred them, and compared their
appearance with the description of the handbills. They were then easily overtaken, and
separately arrested. Their trial and condemna-

Cbree Aemorable Aurbers

169

tion speedily followed at Lancaster; and in
those days it followed, of course, that they were
executed. Otherwise their case fell so far
within the sheltering limits of what would now
be regarded as extenuating circumstancesthat, whilst a murder more or less was not to
repel them from their object, very evidently
they were anxious to economize the bloodshed
as much as possible. Immeasurable, therefore,
was the interval which divided them from the
monster Williams. They perished on the scaffold: Williams, as I have said, by his own
hand; and, in obedience to the law as it then
stood, he was buried in the centre of a quadrivium, or conflux of four roads (in this case
four streets), with a stake driven through his
heart. And over him drives forever the uproar
of unresting London !

THE SPANISH NUN.
adventures are so generally
WHY is it that people of meditative minds ?
repulsive to
It is for the same reason that any other want
of law, that any other anarchy, is repulsive.
Floating passively from action to action as
helplessly as a withered leaf surrendered to the
breath of winds, the human spirit (out of which
comes all grandeur of human emotions) is
exhibited, in mere adventures,as either entirely
laid asleep, or as acting only by lower organs
that regulate the means, whilst the ends are
derived from alien sources and are imperiously
predetermined. It is a case of exception, however, when even amongst such adventures the
agent reacts upon his own difficulties and
necessities by a temper of extraordinary courage and a mind of premature decision. Further
strength rises to such an exception, if the very
moulding accidents of the life, if the very
external coercions, are themselves unusually

be Sipantb I~un

171

romantic. They may thus gain a separate
interest of their own. And, lastly, the whole
is locked into validity of interest, even for the
psychological philosopher, by complete authentication of its truth. In the case now brought
before him, the reader must not doubt; for no
memoir exists, or personal biography, that is so
trebly authenticated by proofs and attestations
direct and collateral. From the archives of the
Royal Marine at Seville, from the autobiography of the heroine, from contemporary
chronicles, and from several official sources
scattered in and out of Spain, some of them
ecclesiastical, the amplest proofs have been
drawn, and may yet be greatly extended, of the
extraordinary events here recorded. M. de
Ferrer, a Spaniard of much research, and
originally incredulous as to the facts, published
about seventeen years ago a selection from the
leading documents, accompanied by his palinode as to their accuracy. His materials have
been since used for the basis of more than one
narrative, not inaccurate, in French, German,
and Spanish journals of high authority. It is
seldom the case that French writers err by
prolixity. They have done so in this case. The
present narrative, which contains no sentence
derived from any foreign one, has the great
advantage of close compression ; my own pages,

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Zbe 5pantsb 1Rfun

after equating the size, being as one to three of
the shortest continental form. In the mode of
narration, I am vain enough to flatter myself
that the reader will find little reason to hesitate
between us. Mine, at least, wearies nobody;
which is more than can be always said f6r the
continental versions.
On a night in the year 1592 (but which night
is a secret liable to three hundred and sixty-five
answers), a Spanish " son of somebody," * in
the fortified town of St. Sebastian, received the
disagreeable intelligence from a nurse that his
wife had just presented him with a daughter.
No present that the poor misjudging lady could
possibly have made him was so entirely useless
for any purpose of his. He had three daughters
already, which happened to be more by 2+1
than his reckoning assumed as a reasonable
allowance of daughter. A supernumerary son
might have been stowed away; but daughters
in excess were the very nuisance of Spain. He
did, therefore, what in such cases every proud
and lazy Spanish gentleman was apt to do-he
wrapped the new little daughter, odious to his
paternal eyes, in a pocket-handkerchief ; and
then, wrapping up his own throat with a good
deal more care, off he bolted to the neighboring
* That is, " hidalgo."

Cbe Spantob iRun

173

convent of St. Sebastian, not merely of that
city, but also (amongst several convents) the
one dedicated to that saint. It is well that in
this quarrelsome world we quarrel furiously
about tastes, since agreeing too closely about
the objects to be liked and appropriated would
breed much more fighting than is bred by disagreeing. That little human tadpole, which
the old toad of a father would not suffer to stay
ten minutes in his house, proved as welcome at
the nunnery of St. Sebastian as she was odious
elsewhere. The superior of the convent was
aunt, by the mother's side, to the new-born
stranger. She therefore kissed and blessed the
little lady. The poor nuns, who were never to
have any babies of their own, and were languishing for some amusement, perfectly doted
on this prospect of a wee pet. The superior
thanked the hidalgo for his very splendid present; the nuns thanked him each and all; until
the old crocodile actually began to cry and
whimper sentimentally at what he now perceived to be excess of munificence in himself.
Munificence, indeed, he remarked, was his
foible, next after parental tenderness.
What a luxury it is sometimes to a cynic that
there go two words to a bargain! In the convent of St. Sebastian all was gratitude,-gratitude (as aforesaid) to the hidalgo from all the

174

Cbe 5pantab 1Run

convent for his present,-until at last the
hidalgo began to express gratitude to them for
their gratitude to him. Then came a rolling
fire of thanks to St. Sebastian: from the superior, for sending a future saint; from the nuns,
for sending such a love of a plaything ; and
finally from papa, for sending such substantial
board and well-bolted lodgings, "from which,"
said the malicious old fellow, "my pussy will
never find her way out to a thorny and dangerous world." Won't she ? I suspect, son of
somebody, that the next time you see "pussy,"
which may happen to be also the last, will not
be in a convent of any kind. At present,
whilst this general rendering of thanks was
going on, one person only took no part in them.
That person was " pussy," whose little figure
lay quietly stretched out in the arms of a smiling young nun, with eyes nearly shut, yet peering a little at the candles. Pussy said nothing;
it's of no great use to say much when all the
world is against you; but if St. Sebastian had
enabled her to speak out the whole truth, pussy
would have said: " So, Mr. Hidalgo, you have
been engaging lodgings for me-lodgings for
life. Wait a little. We '11 try that question
when my claws are grown a little longer."
Disappointment, therefore, was gathering
ahead; but for the present there was nothing

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175

of the kind. The noble old crocodile, papa,
was not in the least disappointed as regarded
his expectation of having no anxiety to waste,
and no money to pay, on account of his
youngest daughter. He insisted on his right
to forget her; and in a week had forgotten her,
never to think of her again but once. The
lady superior, as regarded her demands, was
equally content, and through a course of several
years; for, as often as she asked pussy if she
would be a saint, pussy replied that she would,
if saints were allowed plenty of sweetmeats.
But least of all were the nuns disappointed.
Every thing that they had fancied possible in
a human plaything fell short of what pussy
realized in racketing, racing, and eternal plots
against the peace of the elder nuns. No fox
ever kept a hen-roost in such alarm as pussy
kept the dormitory of the senior sisters; whilst
the younger ladies were run off their legs by
the eternal wiles, and had their chapel gravity
discomposed, even in chapel, by the eternal
antics of this privileged little kitten.
The kitten had long ago received a baptismal
name, which was Kitty: this is Catharine, or
Kate, or Hispanice Catalina. It was a good
name, as it recalled her original name of pussy.
And, by the way, she had also an ancient and
honorable surname, viz., De Erauso, a name

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Cbe 5panitb 1Run

which is to this day a name rooted in Biscay. Her
father, the hidalgo, was a military officer in the
Spanish service, and had little care whether his
kitten should turn out a wolf or a lamb, having
made over the fee simple of his own interest in
the little Kate to St. Sebastian, "to have and
to hold " so long as Kate should keep her hold
of this present life. Kate had no apparent
intention to let slip that hold; for she was
blooming as a rosebush in June, tall and strong
as a young cedar. Yet, notwithstanding this
robust health and the strength of the convent
walls, the time was drawing near when St.
Sebastian's lease in Kate must, in legal phrase,
" determine "; and any chateaux en Espagne
that the saint might have built on the cloisteral
fidelity of his pet Catalina must suddenly give
way in one hour, like many other vanities in
our own days of Spanish bonds and promises.
After reaching her tenth year, Catalina became
thoughtful, and not very docile. At times she
was even headstrong and turbulent, so that the
gentle sisterhood of St. Sebastian, who had no
other pet or plaything in the world, began to
weep in secret, fearing that they might have
been rearing by mistake some future tigress;
for, as to infancy, that, you know, is playful
and innocent even in the cubs of a tigress. But
there the ladies were going too far. Catalina

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177

was impetuous and aspiring, but not cruel. She
was gentle, if people would let her be so; but
woe to those that took liberties with her! A
female servant of the convent, in some authority,
one day, in passing up the aisle to matins, wilfully gave Kate a push; and in return, Kate,
who never left her debts in arrear, gave the
servant for a keepsake a look which that servant carried with her in fearful remembrance to
her grave. It seemed as if Kate had tropic
blood in her veins, that continually called her
away to the tropics. It was all the fault of that
" blue, rejoicing sky, " of those purple Biscayan
mountains, of that tumultuous ocean which she
beheld daily from the nunnery gardens. Or,
if only half of it was their fault, the other half
lay in those golden tales, streaming upwards,
even into the sanctuaries of convents, like morning mists touched by earliest sunlight, of kingdoms overshadowing a new world which had
been founded by her kinsmen with the simple
aid of a horse and a lance. The reader is to
remember that this is no romance, or at least
no fiction, that he is reading; and it is proper
to remind the reader of real romances in
Ariosto or our own Spenser, that such martial
ladies as the Marfisa or Bradamant of the first,
and Britomart of the other, were really not the
improbabilities that modern society imagines.

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Many a stout man, as you will soon see, found
that Kate, with a sabre in hand and well
mounted, was but too serious a fact.
The day is come, the evening is come, when
our poor Kate, that had for fifteen years been
so tenderly rocked in the arms of St. Sebastian
and his daughters, and that henceforth shall
hardly find a breathing space between eternal
storms, must see her peaceful cell, must see the
holy chapel, for the last time. It was at vespers,
it was during the chanting of the vesper service,
that she finally read the secret signal for her
departure, which long she had been looking
for. It happened that her aunt, the lady principal, had forgotten her breviary. As this was
in a private scrutoire, she did not choose to
send a servant for it, but gave the key to her
niece. The niece, on opening the scrutoire,
saw, with that rapidity of eye glance for the
one thing needed in any great emergency which
ever attended her through life, that now was the
moment for an attempt which, if neglected,
might never return. There lay the total keys,
in one massive trousseau, of that fortress impregnable even to armies from without. St.
Sebastian! do you see what your pet is going
to do? And do it she will, as sure as your
name is St. Sebastian. Kate went back to her
aunt with the breviary and the key, but taking

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179

good care to leave that awful door, on whose
hinge revolved her whole life, unlocked. Delivering the two articles to the superior, she
complained of a headache; [ah, Kate! what
did you know of headaches, except now and
then afterwards from a stray bullet or so ?] upon
which her aunt, kissing her forehead, dismissed
her to bed. Now, then, through three fourths
of an hour Kate will have free elbow-room for
unanchoring her boat, for unshipping her oars,
and for pulling ahead right out of St. Sebastian's
cove into the main ocean of life.
Catalina, the reader is to understand, does not
belong to the class of persons in whom chiefly
I pretend to an interest; but everywhere one
loves energy and indomitable courage. I, for
my part, admire not, by preference, any thing
that points to this world. It is the child of
revery and profounder sensibility, who turns
away from the world as hateful and insufficient,
that engages my interest; whereas Catalina
was the very model of the class fitted for facing
this world, and who express their love to it by
fighting with it and kicking it from year to
year. But, always, what is best in its kind one
admires, even though the kind be disagreeable.
Kate's advantages for her rdle in this life lay in
four things-viz., in a well-built person and a
particularly strong wrist. 2d. In a heart that

x8o

Ube Spantob lRun

nothing could appall. 3 d. In a sagacious head,
never drawn aside from the hoc age [from the
instant question of life] by any weakness of
imagination. 4th. In a tolerably thick skinnot literally; for she was fair and blooming,
and decidedly handsome, having such a skin as
became a young woman of family in northernmost Spain. But her sensibilities were obtuse
as regarded some modes of delicacy, some modes
of equity, some modes of the world's opinion,
and all modes whatever of personal hardship.
Lay a stress on that word some; for, as to
delicacy, she never lost sight of the kind which
peculiarly concerns her sex. Long afterwards
she told the pope himself, when confessing
without disguise her sad and infinite wanderings to the paternal old man (and I feel convinced of her veracity), that in this respect,
even then, at middle age, she was as pure as
is a child; and as to equity, it was only
that she substituted the equity of camps
for the polished (but often more iniquitous)
equity of courts and towns. As to the third
item,-the world's opinion,-I don't know that
you need lay a stress on some; for, generally
speaking, all that the world did, said, or
thought, was alike contemptible in her eyes;
in which, perhaps, she was not so very far
wrong. I must add, though at the cost of

Ube Eipanieb iRun

181

interrupting the story by two or three more
sentences, that Catalina had also a fifth advantage, which sounds humbly, but is really of
use in a world where even to fold and seal a
letter adroitly is not the least of accomplishtments. She was a handy girl. She could turn
her hand to any thing; of which I will give you
two memorable instances. Was there ever a
girl in this world but herself that cheated and
snapped her fingers at that awful Inquisition
which brooded over the convents of Spain, that
did this without collusion from outside, trusting
to nobody but herself, and what ? To one needle,
two hanks of thread, and a very inferior pair of
scissors. For that the scissors were bad, though
Kate does not say so in her mieloirs, I know by
an pri ori arguinent-viz., because all scissors
were bad in the year 1607. Now, say all decent
logicians, from a universal to a particular valet
consequcenlia, all scissors were bad; ergo some
scissors were bad. The second instance of her
handiness will surprise you even more. She
once stood upon a scaffold, under sentence of
death (but, understand, on the evidence of
false witnesses). Jack Ketch was absolutely
tying the knot under her ear ; and the shameful man of ropes fulmbled so deplorably that
Kate (who by much nautical experience had
learned fromn another sort of "Jack " how a

182

be Sipantolb lt~un

knot should be tied in this world) lost all
patience with the contemptible artist, told him
she was ashamed of him, took the rope out of
his hand, and tied the knot irreproachably herself. The crowd saluted her with a festal roll,
long and loud, of vivas, and this word viva of
good augury-But stop; let me not anticipate.
From this sketch of Catalina's character, the
reader is prepared to understand the decision
of her present proceeding. She had no time to
lose; the twilight favored her; but she must
get under hiding before pursuit commenced.
Consequently she lost not one of her forty-five
minutes in picking and choosing. No shilly
shally in Kate. She saw with the eyeball of
an eagle what was indispensable: some little
money, perhaps, to pay the first toll bar of life.
So, out of four shillings in aunty's purse, she
took one. You can't say that was exorbitant.
Which of us would n't subscribe a shilling for
poor Katy to put into the first trouser-pockets
that ever she will wear ? I remember even yet,
as a personal experience, that when first arrayed,
at four years old, in nankeen trousers,-though
still so far retaining hermaphrodite relations of
dress as to wear a petticoat above my trousers,
-all my female friends (because they pitied me
as one that had suffered from years of ague)
filled my pockets with half-crowns, of which I

UTSbe
S~pantb rt~un

183

can render no account at this day. But what
were my poor pretensions by the side of Kate's ?
Kate was a fine blooming girl of fifteen, with
no touch of ague; and, before the next sun
rises, Kate shall draw on her first trousers, and
made by her own hand; and, that she may do
so, of all the valuables in aunty's repository
she takes nothing besides the shilling, quantum
suficit of thread, one stout needle, and (as I
told you before, if you would please to remember things) one bad pair of scissors. Now she
was ready-ready to cast off St. Sebastian's
towing rope--ready to cut and run for port anywhere. The finishing touch of her preparations
was to pick out the proper keys. Even there
she showed the same discretion. She did do no
gratuitous mischief. She did not take the winecellar key, which would have irritated the good
father confessor; she took those keys only that
belonged to her,if ever keys did; for they were
the keys that locked her out from her natural
birthright of liberty. "Show me," says the
Romish casuist, " her right in law to let herself
out of that nunnery." "Show us," we reply,
" your right to lock her in."
Right or wrong, however, in strict casuistry,
Kate was resolved to let herself out, and did so;
and, for fear any man should creep in whilst
vespers lasted and steal the kitchen grate, she

184

Zbe Zpaniesb

l~un

locked her old friends in. Then she sought:4
shelter. The air was not cold. She hurried
into a chestnut wood, and upon withered leavo
slept till dawn. Spanish diet and youth leav
the digestion undisordered and the slumber!
light. When the lark rose, up rose Catalin
No time to lose; for she was still in the dresi
of a nun, and liable to be arrested by any man
in Spain. With her arrmed finger (ay; by the
way, I forgot the thimble; but Kate did not,
she set to work upon her amply-embroidered
petticoat. She turned it wrong side out and,
with the magic that only female hands possess
she had soon sketched and finished a dashing
pair of Wellington trousers. All other change,
were made according to the materials she pos
sessed, and quite sufficiently to disguise the twC
main perils--her sex and her monastic dedica.
tion. NWhat was she to do next? Speaking of
Wellington trousers would remind its, but could
hardly remind her, of Vittoria, where she dimly
had heard of some maternal relative. To Vit'
toria, therefore, she bent her course ; and, like
the Duke of Wellington, but arriving more thani
two centuries earlier (though he, too, is an early
riser), she gained a great victory at that place,
She had made a two days' march, baggage fa
in the rear, and no provisions but wild berries
She depended for any thing better, as lighti

Cbe Spantib ltun

185

heartedly as the duke, upon attacking, sword
in hand, storming, her dear friend's intrenchments, and effecting a lodgment in his breakfast room, should he happen to have one. This
amiable relative, an elderly man, had but one
foible, or perhaps one virtue, in this world; but
that he had in perfection; it was pedantry. On
that hint Catalina spoke. She knew by heart,
from the services of the convent, a few Latin
phrases. Latin !-0, but that was charming;
and in one so young! The grave don owned
the soft impeachment, relented at once, and
clasped the hopeful young gentleman in the
Wellington trousers to his uncular and rather
angular breast. In this house the yarn of life
was of a mingled quality. The table was good;
but that was exactly what Kate cared little
about. The amusement was of the worst kind.
It consisted chiefly in conjugating Latin verbs,
especially such as were obstinately irregular.
To show him a withered, frost-bitten verb, that
wanted its preterite, wanted its supines, wanted,
in fact, every thing in this world, fruits or
blossoms, that make a verb desirable, was to
earn the don's gratitude for life. All day long
he was marching and countermarching his
favorite brigades of verbs-verbs frequentative,
verbs inceptive, verbs desiderative-horse, foot,
and artillery; changing front, advancing from

i86

Ube Zpantib 1lrun

the rear, throwing out skirmishing parties; until Kate, not given to faint, must have thought
of such a resource as once in her life she had
thought so seasonably of a vesper headache
This was really worse than St. Sebastian's. I
reminds one of a French gayety in Thiebault
or sonme such author, who describes a rusti
party, under equal despair, as emlploying them
selves in conjugating the verb s'e/nuutyer:
"
m'enuie, /ul 'intics, i/ s'e.'nuit; niouzs
nOw
ennuyons, etc., thence to the imperfect -t
m'ennuyois, it /'e nuyois, etc.; thence to the
imperative - Qu'il s'Ynnuye, etc.; and so o.i
through the whole melancholy conjugation
Now, you know, when the time colnes that
nous nous ennsyons, the best course is to part.
Kate saw that; and she walked off from the
don's (of whose amorous passion for defective
verbs one would have wished to know the
catastrophe), and took from his mantel-piece
rather more silver than she had levied on her
aunt. But the don, also, was a relative; and
really he owed her a snmall check on his banket
for turning out on his field days. A man, if h
is a kinsman, has no right to bore one gratis:
From Vittoria, Kate was guided by a carrier
to Valladolid. Luckily, as it seemed at first,but it made little difference in the end,-here
at Valladolid, were the king and his court

Cbe Spantob 1Iun

187

consequently there was plenty of regiments and
plenty of regimental bands. Attracted by one
of these, Catalina was quietly listening to the
music, when some street ruffians, in derision of
the gay colors and the form of her forest-made
costume (rascals ! one would like to have seen
what sort of trousers they would have made with
no better scissors), began to pelt her with stones.
Ah, my friends of the genus blackguard, you
little know who it is that you are selecting for
experiments. This is the one creature of fifteen
in all Spain, be the other male or female, whom
nature, and temper, and provocation have qualified for taking the conceit out of you. This she
very soon did, laying open a head or two with a
sharp stone, and letting out rather too little than
too much of bad Valladolid blood. But mark
the constant villainy of this world. Certain
alguazils,-very like some other alguazils that I
know nearer home,-having stood by quietly to
see the friendless stranger insulted and assaulted, now felt it their duty to apprehend the poor
nun for murderous violence; and, had there
been such a thing as a treadmill in Valladolid,
Kate was booked for a place on it without
further inquiry. Luckily, injustice does not
always prosper. A gallant young cavalier, who
had witnessed from his windows the whole
affair, had seen the provocation, and admired

188

Cbe 5pantb iun

Catalina's behavior,-equally patient at first,
and bold at last,-hastened into the street,
pursued the officers, forced them to release
their prisoner upon stating the circumstances
of the case, and instantly offered Catalina a
situation among his retinue. He was a man of
birth and fortune; and the place offered, that
of an honorary page, not being at all degrading,
even to a "daughter of somebody," was cheerfully accepted. Here Catalina spent a happy
month. She was now splendidly dressed, in
dark-blue velvet, by a tailor that did not work
within the gloom of a chestnut forest. She and
the young cavalier, Don Francisco de Cardenas,
were mutually pleased and had mutual confidence. All went well; when one evening, but,
luckily, not until the sun had been set so long
as to make all things indistinct, who should
march into the antechamber of the cavalier but
that sublime of crocodiles, papa, that we lost
sight of fifteen years ago, and shall never see
again after this night! He had his crocodile
tears all ready for use, in working order, like a
good industrious fire-engine. It was absolutely
to Catalina herself that he advanced; whom,
for many reasons, he could not be supposed to
recognize: lapse of years, male attire, twilight,
were all against him. Still she might have the
family countenance; and Kate thought he

Cbe Spanteb lRun

s9

looked with a suspicious scrutiny into her face
as he inquired for the young don. To avert her
own face, to announce him to Don Francisco,
to wish him on the shores of that ancient river
for crocodiles, the Nile, furnished but one moment's work to the active Catalina. She lingered, however, as her place entitled her to do,
at the door of the audience chamber. She
guessed already, but in a moment she heard
from papa's lips, what was the nature of his
errand. His daughter Catharine, he informed
the don, had eloped from the convent of St.
Sebastian-a place rich in delight. Then he
laid open the unparalleled ingratitude of such a
step. 0 the unseen treasure that had been
spent upon that girl! 0 the untold sums of
money that he had sunk in that unhappy speculation! the nights of sleeplessness suffered
during her infancy ! the fifteen years of solicitude
thrown away in schemes for her improvement !
It would have moved the heart of a stone. The
hidalgo wept copiously at his own pathos. And
to such a height of grandeur had he carried his
Spanish sense of the sublime, that he disdained
to mention the pocket-handkerchief which he
had left at St. Sebastian's fifteen years ago, by
way of envelope for " pussy," and which, to the
best of pussy's knowledge, was the one sole
memorandum of papa ever heard of at St.

go

Cbe Opanieb 1IAun

Sebastian's. Pussy, however, saw no use in
revising and correcting the text of papa's remembrances. She showed her usual prudence
and her usual incomparable decision. It did
not appear, as yet, that she would be reclaimed
or was at all suspected for the fugitive by her
father; for it is an instance of that singular
fatality which pursued Catalina through life,
that, to her own astonishment (as she now collected from her father's conference), nobody
had traced her to Valladolid, nor had her
father's visit any connection with suspicious
travelling in that direction. The case was quite
different. Strangely enough, her street row
had thrown her into the one sole household in
all Spain that had an official connection with
St. Sebastian's. That convent had been founded
by the young cavalier's family; and, according
to the usage of Spain, the young man (as present representative of his house) was the responsible protector of the establishment. It was
not to the don as harborer of his daughter, but
to the don as ex-officio visitor of the convent,
that the hidalgo was appealing. Probably Kate
might have staid safely some time longer. Yet,
again, this would but have multiplied the clues
for tracing her; and, finally, she would too
probably have been discovered; after which,
with all his youthful generosity, the poor don

Cbe Opantb iRlun9

191

could not have protected her. Too terrific was
the vengeance that awaited an abettor of any
fugitive nun; but, above all, if such a crime
were perpetrated by an official mandatory of
the church. Yet, again, so far as it was the
more hazardous course to abscond, that it
almost revealed her to the young don as the
missing daughter. Still, if it really had that
effect, nothing at present obliged him to pursue
her, as might have been the case a few weeks
later. Kate argued (I dare say) rightly, as she
always did. Her prudence whispered eternally,
that safety there was none for her until she had
laid the Atlantic between herself and St. Sebastian's. Life was to be for her a Bay of Biscay;
and it was odds but she had first embarked
upon this billowy life from the literal Bay of
Biscay. Chance ordered otherwise; or, as a
Frenchman says with eloquent ingenuity in
connection with this story: " Chance is but the
pseudonyme of God for those particular cases
which he does not subscribe openly with his
own sign manual." She crept up stairs to her
bedroom. Simple are the travelling preparations of those that, possessing nothing, have no
imperials to pack. She had Juvenal's qualification for carolling gaily through a forest full of
robbers; for she had nothing to lose but a
change of linen, that rode easily enough under

t92

Cbe Opanteb 1lrun

her left arm, leaving the right free for answering any questions of impertinent customers. As
she crept down stairs she heard the crocodile
still weeping forth his sorrows to the pensive
ear of twilight and to the sympathetic Don
Francisco. Now, it would not have been filial
or ladylike for Kate to do what I am going to
suggest; but what a pity that some gay brother
page had not been there to turn aside into the
room, armed with a roasted potato, and, taking
a sportsman's aim, to have lodged it in the
crocodile's abominable mouth! Yet what an
anachronism! There were no roasted potatoes
in Spain at that date, and very few in England.
But anger drives a man to say any thing.
Catalina had seen her last of friends and
enemies in Valladolid. Short was her time
there; but she had improved it so far as to
make a few of both. There was an eye or twp
in Valladolid that would have glared with
malice upon her had she been seen by all eyes
in that city as she tripped through the streets
in the dusk; and eyes there were that would
have softened into tears had they seen the
desolate condition of the child, or in vision had
seen the struggles that were before her. But
what 's the use of wasting tears upon our Kate ?
Wait till to-morrow morning at sunrise, and see
if she is particularly in need of pity. What

Ube !Bpantb iRun

193

now should a young lady do-I propose it as a
subject for a prize essay-that finds herself in
Valladolid at nightfall, having no letters of
introduction, not aware of any reason great or
small for preferring any street in general, except
so far as she knows of some reason for avoiding
one or two streets in particular? The great
problem I have stated, Kate investigated as she
went along, and she solved it with the accuracy
which she ever applied to practical exigencies.
Her conclusion was, that the best door to knock
at in such a case was the door where there was
no need to knock at all, as being unfastened
and open to all comers; for she argued that
within such a door there would be nothing to
steal; so that, at least, you could not be mistaken in the dark for a thief. Then, as to
stealing from her, they might do that if they
could.
Upon these principles, which hostile critics
will in vain endeavor to undermine, she laid
her hand upon what seemed a rude stable door.
Such it proved. There was an empty cart inside-certainly there was; but you could n't
take that away in your pocket : and there were
five loads of straw; but then of those a lady
could take no more than her reticule would
carry, which perhaps was allowed by the courtesy of Spain. So Kate was right as to the dif-

194

Ube Spantab 1Run

ficulty of being challenged for a thief. Closing
the door as gently as she had opened it, she
dropped her person, dressed as she was, upon
the nearest heap of straw. Some ten feet farther were lying two muleteers, honest and
happy enough, as compared with the lords of
the bed-chamber then in Valladolid, but still
gross men, carnally deaf from eating garlic and
onions and other horrible substances. Accordingly they never heard her, nor were aware,
until dawn, that such a blooming person existed. But she was aware of them and of their
conversation. They were talking of an expedition for America, on the point of sailing, under
Don Ferdinand de Cordova. It was to sail from
some Andalusian port. That was the very
thing for her. At daylight she woke and
jumped up, needing no more toilet than the
birds that already were singing in the gardens,
or than the two muleteers, who, good, honest
fellows, saluted the handsome boy kindlythinking no ill at his making free with their
straw, though no leave had been asked.
With these philo-garlic men Kate took her
departure. The morning was divine; and, leaving Valladolid with the transports that befitted
such a golden dawn, feeling also already, in the
very obscurity of her exit, the pledge of her
escape, she cared no longer for the crocodile, or

be Sipantb lRun

195

for St. Sebastian, or (in the way of fear) for the
protector of St. Sebastian; though of him she
thought with some tenderness, so deep is the
remembrance of kindness mixed with justice.
Andalusia she reached rather slowly, but many
months before she was sixteen years old, and
quite in time for the expedition. St. Lucar
being the port of rendezvous for the Peruvian
expedition, thither she went. All comers were
welcome on board the fleet, much more a fine
young fellow like Kate. She was at once engaged as a mate; and her ship, in particular,
after doubling Cape Horn without loss, made
the coast of Peru. Paita was the port of her
destination. Very near to this port they were
when a storm threw them upon a coral reef.
There was little hope of the ship from the first,
for she was unmanageable, and was not expected to hold together for twenty-four hours. In
this condition, with death before their faces,
mark what Kate did, and please to remember
it for her benefit when she does any other little
thing that angers you. The crew lowered the
long-boat. Vainly the captain protested against
this disloyal desertion of a king's ship, which
might yet, perhaps, be run on shore, so as to
save the stores. All the crew, to a man, deserted the captain. You may say that literally; for
the single exception was not a man, being our

196

Ube !panisb IRun

bold-hearted Kate. She was the only sailor
that refused to leave her captain or the King
of Spain's ship. The rest pulled away for the
shore, and with fair hopes of reaching it. But
one half told another tale. Just about that time
came a broad sheet of lightning, which, through
the darkness of evening, revealed the boat in
the very act of mounting like a horse upon an
inner reef, instantly filling, and throwing out
the crew, every man of whom disappeared
amongst the breakers. The night which succeeded was gloomy for both the representatives
of his Catholic majesty. It cannot be denied
by the greatest of philosophers that the muleteer's stable at Valladolid was worth twenty
such ships, though the stable was nol insured
against fire, and the ship was insured against
the sea and the wind by some fellow that thought
very little of his engagements. But what 's the
use of sitting down to cry ? That was never any
trick of Catalina's. By daybreak she was at
work with an axe in her hand. I knew it before ever I came to this place in her memoirs.
I felt, as sure as if I had read it, that when day
broke we should find Kate hard at work. Thimble or axe, trousers or raft, all one to her.
The captain, though true to his duty, seems
to have desponded. He gave no help towards
the raft. Signs were speaking, however, pretty

Ube !Bpansb AI~un'

197

loudly, that he must do something, for notice
to quit was now served pretty liberally. Kate's
raft was ready, and she encouraged the captain
to think that it would give both of them something to hold on by in swimming, if not even
carry double. At this moment, when all was
waiting for a start, and the ship herself was
waiting for a final lurch, to say Good-by to the
King of Spain, Kate went and did a thing which
some misjudging people will object to. She
knew of a box laden with gold coins, reputed to
be the King of Spain's, and meant for contingencies in the voyage out. This she smashed
open with her axe, and took a sum equal to one
hundred guineas English, which, having well
secured in a pillow-case, she then lashed firmly
to the raft. Now, this, you know, though not
"flotsam," because it would not float, was certainly, by maritime law, "jelsom." It would
be the idlest of scruples to fancy that the sea or
a shark had a better right to it than a philosopher, or a splendid girl who showed herself
capable of writing a very fair octavo, to say
nothing of her decapitating in battle several of
the king's enemies and recovering the king's
banner. No sane moralist would hesitate to do
the same thing under the same circumstances
on board an English vessel, though the first
lord of the admiralty should be looking on.

198

Ube 5panib iun

The raft was now thrown into the sea. Kate
jumped after it, and then entreated the captain,
to follow her. He attempted it; but, wanting
her youthful agility, he struck his head against
a spar and sank like lead, giving notice below
that his ship was coming. Kate mounted the
raft and was gradually washed ashore, but so
exhausted as to have lost all recollection. She
lay for hours until the warmth of the sun revived her. On sitting up, she saw a desolate
shore stretching both ways-nothing to eat,
nothing to drink; but fortunately the raft and
the money had been thrown near her, none of
the lashings having given way; only what is
the use of a guinea amongst tangle and seagulls? The money she distributed amongst her
pockets, and soon found strength to rise and
march forward. But which was forward? and
which backward? She knew by the conversation of the sailors that Paita must be in the
neighborhood; and Paita, being a port, could
not be in the inside of Peru, but of course
somewhere on its outside, and the outside of a
maritime land must be the shore; so that, if
she kept the shore and went far enough, she
could not fail of hitting her foot against Paita
at last, in the very darkest night, provided only
she could first find out which was up and which
was down; else she might walk her shoes off

be !Bpantofb lItun

199

and find herself six thousand miles in the
[wrong. Here was an awkward case, all for
twant of a guide-post. Still, when one thinks
of Kate's prosperous horoscope, that, after so
!long a voyage, she only out of the total crew
was thrown on the American shore, with one
hundred and five pounds in her purse of clear
gain on the voyage, a conviction arises that she
could not guess wrongly.
She might have
tossed up, having coins in her pocket, heads or
lails? But this kind of sortilege was then
coming to be thought irreligious in Christendom, as a Jewish and a heathen mode of questioning the dark future. She simply guessed,
therefore; and very soon a thing happened
which, though adding nothing to strengthen
her guess as a true one, did much to sweeten it
if it should prove a false one. On turning a
point of the shore, she came upon a barrel of
biscuit washed ashore from the ship. Biscuit is
about the best thing I know; but it is the soonest spoiled, and one would like to hear counsel
on one puzzling point, why is it that a touch of
water utterly ruins it, taking its life, and leaving a caput norlitum corpse. Upon this caput
Kate breakfasted, though her case was worse
than inine; for any water that ever plagued me
was always fresh; now, hers was a present
from the Pacific Ocean. She, that was always

200

Ube Spanitb lun

prudent, packed up some of the Catholic king's
biscuit as she had previously packed up far too
little of his gold. But in such cases a most
delicate question occurs, pressing equally on
medicine and algebra. It is this: If you pack
up too much, then, by this extra burden of salt
provisions, you may retard for days your arrival
at fresh provisions: on the other hand, if you
pack up too little, you may never arrive at all.
Catalina hit the juste milieu; and about twilight on the second day she found herself entering Paita, without having had to swim any river
in her walk.
The first thing in such a case of distress
which a young lady does, even if she happens
to be a young gentleman, is to beautify her
dress. Kate always attended to that, as we
know, having overlooked her in the chestnut
wood. The man she sent for was not properly
a tailor, but one who employed tailors, he himself furnishing the materials. His name was
Urquiza-a fact of very little importance to us
in 1847, if it had stood only at the head and
foot of Kate's little account; but, unhappily for
Kate's d~but on this vast American stage, the
case was otherwise. Mr. Urquiza had the misfortune (equally common in the old world and
the new) of being a knave, and also a showy,
specious knave. Kate, who had prospered

Zbe Opanfob ihun

201

under sea allowances of biscuit and hardship,
was now expanding in proportions. With very
little vanity or consciousness on that head, she
now displayed a really fine person; and, when
dressed anew in the way that became a young
officer in the Spanish service, she looked 1" the
representative picture of a Spanish caballador.
It is strange that such an appearance and such
a rank should have suggested to Urquiza the
presumptuous idea of wishing that Kate might
become his clerk. He did, however, wish it;
for Kate wrote a beautiful hand; and a stranger thing is, that Kate accepted his proposal.
This might arise from the difficulty of moving
in those days to any distance in Peru. The ship
had been merely bringing stores to the station
of Paita; and no corps of the royal armies
was readily to be reached, while something
must be done at once for a livelihood. Urquiza
had two mercantile establishments - one at
Trujillo, to which he repaired in person, on
Kate's agreeing to undertake the management
of the other in Paita. Like the sensible girl
that we have always found her, she demanded
specific instructions for her guidance in duties
so new. Certainly she was in a fair way for
seeing life. Telling her beads at St. Sebastian's,
manceuvring irregular verbs at Vittoria, acting
as gentleman usher at Valladolid, serving his

202

Cbe 5panitb IRun

Spanish majesty around Cape Horn, fighting
with storms and sharks off the coast of Peru,
and now commencing as bookkeeper, or commis, to a draper at Paita,-does she not justify
the character that I myself gave her, just before
dismissing her from St. Sebastian's, of being a
" handy " girl? Mr. Urquiza's instruction were
short, easy to be understood, but rather comic ;
and yet, which is odd, they led to tragic results.
There were two debtors of the shop (many it is
to be hoped, but two meriting his affectionate
notice) with respect to whom he left the most
opposite directions. The one was a very handsome lady; and the rule as to her was, that she
was to have credit unlimited, strictly unlimited.
That was plain. The other customer favored
by Mr. Urquiza's valedictory thoughts was a
young man, cousin to the handsome lady, and
bearing the name of Reyes. This youth occupied in Mr. Urquiza's estimate the same hyperbolical rank as the handsome lady, but on the
opposite side of the equation. The rule as to
him was, that he was to have no credit, strictly
none. In this case, also, Kate saw no difficulty;
and, when she came to know Mr. Reyes a
little, she found the path of pleasure coinciding
with the path of duty. Mr. Urquiza could not
be more precise in laying down the rule than
Kate was in enforcing it. But in the other case

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a scruple arose. Unlimited might be a word,
not of Spanish law, but of Spanish rhetoric;
such as, "Live a thousand years," which
even annuity offices hear, and perhaps utter,
without a pang. Kate, therefore, wrote to
Trujillo, expressing her honest fears, and desiring to have more definite instructions. These
were positive ; if the lady chose to send for the
entire shop, her account was to be debited instantly with that. She had, however, as yet,
not sent for the shop; but she began to manifest strong signs of sending for the shopman.
Upon the blooming young Biscayan had her
roving eye settled; and she was in a course of
making up her mind to take Kate for a sweetheart. Poor Kate saw this with a heavy heart ;
and, at the same time that she had a prospect
of a tender friend, more than she wanted, she
had become certain of an extra enemy that she
wanted quite as little. What she had done to
offend Mr. Reyes Kate could not guess, except
as to the matter of the credit; but then, in
that, she only executed her instructions. Still
Mr. Reyes was of opinion that there were two
ways of executing orders; but the main offence
was unintentional on Kate's part. Reyes,
though as yet she did not know it, had himself
been a candidate for the situation of clerk, and
intended probably to keep the equation pre-

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cisely as it was with respect to the allowance
of credit, only to change places with the handsome lady, keeping her on the negative side,
himself on the affirmative-an arrangement
that you know could have made no sort of
pecuniary difference to Urquiza.
Thus stood matters, when a party of strolling
players strolled into Paita. Kate, as a Spaniard, being one held of the Paita aristocracy,
was expected to attend. She did so; and there,
also, was the malignant Reyes. He came and
seated himself purposely, so as to shut out
Kate from all view of the stage. She, who had
nothing of the bully in her nature, and was a
gentle creature when her wild Biscayan blood
had not been kindled by insult, courteously requested him to move a little; upon which Reyes
remarked that it was not in his power to oblige
the clerk as to that, but that he could oblige
him by cutting his throat. The tiger that slept
in Catalina wakened at once. She seized him,
and would have executed vengeance on the
spot, but that a party of young men interposed
to part them. The next day, when Kate (always ready to forget and forgive) was thinking
no more of the row, Reyes passed. By spitting
at the window, and other gestures insulting to
Kate, again he roused her Spanish blood. Out
she rushed, sword in hand. A duel began in

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the street, and very soon Kate's sword had
passed into the heart of Reyes. Now that the
mischief was done, the police were, as usual, all
alive for the pleasure of avenging it. Kate
found herself suddenly in a strong prison, and
with small hopes of leaving it except for execution. The relations of the dead man were
potent in Paita, and clamorous for justice; so
that the corrigidor,in a case where he saw a
very poor chance of being corrupted by bribes,
felt it his duty to be sublimely incorruptible.
The reader knows, however, that amongst the
relatives of the deceased bully was that handsome lady, who differed as much from her cousin in her sentiments as to Kate as she did in
the extent of her credit with Mr. Urquiza. To
her Kate wrote a note, and, using one of the
Spanish king's gold coins for bribing the jailer,
got it safely delivered. That, perhaps, was unnecessary; for the lady had been already on the
alert, and had summoned Urquiza from Trujillo.
By some means, not very luminously stated,
and by paying proper fees in proper quarters,
Kate was smuggled out of the prison at nightfall and smuggled into a pretty house in the
suburbs. Had she known exactly the footing
she stood on as to the law, she would have been
decided. As it was, she was uneasy, and jealous of mischief abroad; and, before supper, she

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understood it all. Urquiza briefly informed his
clerk that it would be requisite for him to
marry the handsome lady. But why? Because,
said Urquiza, after talking for hours with the
corrigidor,who was infamous for obstinacy, he
had found it impossible to make him "hear
reason " and release the prisoner until this compromise of marriage was suggested. But how
could public justice be pacified for the clerk's
unfortunate homicide of Reyes by a female
cousin of the deceased man engaging to love,
honor, and obey the clerk for life? Kate could
not see her way through this logic. " Nonsense, my friend," said Urquiza; "you don't
comprehend. As it stands, the affair is a murder, and hanging the penalty; but, if you
marry into the murdered man's house, then it
becomes a little family murder, all quiet and
comfortable amongst ourselves. What has the
corrigidor do with that, or the public either?
to
Now, let me introduce the bride." Supper entered at that moment, and the bride immediately after. The thoughtfulness of Kate was
narrowly observed, and even alluded to, but
politely ascribed to the natural anxieties of a
prisoner and the very imperfect state of liberation even yet from prison surveillance. Kate
had, indeed, never been in so trying a situation
before. The anxieties of the farewell night at

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St. Sebastian were nothing to this; because,
even if she had failed then, a failure might not
have always been irreparable. It was but to
watch and wait. But now, at this supper table,
she was not more alive to the nature of the peril
than she was to the fact, that if, before the
night closed she did not by some means escape
from it, she never would escape with her life.
The deception as to her sex, though resting on
no motive that pointed to these people or at all
concerned them, would be resented as if it had.
The lady would resent the case as a mockery ;
and Urquiza would lose his opportunity of delivering himself from an imperious mistress.
According to the usages of the times and country, Kate knew that in twelve hours she would
be assassinated.
People of infirmer resolution would have lingered at the supper table, for the sake of putting off the evil moment of final crisis. Not
so Kate. She had revolved the case on all its
sides in a few minutes and had formed her
resolution. This done, she was as ready for
the trial at one moment as another; and when
the lady suggested that the hardships of a
prison must have made repose desirable, Kate
assented, and instantly rose. A sort of procession formed, for the purpose of doing honor to
the interesting guest and escorting him in

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pomp to his bed-room. Kate viewed it much
in the same light as the procession to which for
some days she had been expecting an invitation from the corrigidor. Far ahead ran the servant woman as a sort of outrider. Then came
Urquiza, like a pacha of two tails, who granted
two sorts of credit, viz., unlimited and none at
all, bearing two wax lights, one in each hand,
and wanting only cymbals and kettledrums to
express emphatically the pathos of his Castilian
strut. Next came the bride, a little in advance
of the clerk, but still turning obliquely towards
him and smiling graciously into his face.
Lastly, bringing up the rear, came the prisoner
-our Kate,-the nun, the page, the mate, the
clerk, the homicide, the convict; and for this
day only, by particular desire, the bridegroom
elect.
It was Kate's fixed opinion, that, if for a moment she entered any bed-room having obviously no outlet, her fate would be that of an ox
once driven within the shambles. Outside, the
bullock might make some defence with his
horns; but once in, with no space for turning,
he is muffled and gagged. She carried her eye,
therefore, like a hawk's, steady, though restless, for vigilant examination of every angle
she turned. Before she entered any bed-room,
she was resolved to reconnoitre it from the

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doorway, and, in case of necessity, show fight
at once, before entering-as the best chance,
after all, where all chances were bad. Every
thing ends ; and at last the procession reached
the bed-room door, the outrider having filed off
to the rear. One glance sufficed to satisfy
Kate that windows there were none, and, therefore, no outlet for escape. Treachery appeared
even in that; and Kate, though unfortunately
without arms, was now fixed for resistance.
Mr. Urquiza entered first. " Sound the trumpets! Beat the drums!"
There were, as we
know already, no windows; but a slight interruption to Mr. Urquiza's pompous tread showed
that there were steps downwards into the room.
Those, thought Kate, will suit me even better.
She had watched the unlocking of the bed-room
door-she had lost nothing-she had marked
that the key was left in the lock. At this
moment, the beautiful lady, as one acquainted
with the details of the house, turning with the
air of a gracious monitress, held out her fair
hand to guide Kate in careful descent of the
steps. This had the air of taking out Kate to
dance; and Kate, at that same moment, answering to it by the gesture of a modern waltzer,
threw her arm behind the lady's waist, hurled
her headlong down the steps, right against Mr.
Urquiza, draper and haberdasher; and then,

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with the speed of lightning, throwing the door
home within its architrave, doubly locked the
creditor and debtor into the rat trap which they
had prepared for herself.
The affrighted outrider fled with horror; she
already knew that the clerk had committed one
homicide; a second would cost him still less
thought; and thus it happened that egress was
left easy. But when out and free once more in
the bright starry night, which way should Kate
turn? The whole city would prove but a rat
trap for her, as bad as Mr. Urquiza's if she was
not off before morning. At a glance she comprehended that the sea was her only chance.
To the port she fled. All was silent. Watchmen there were none. She jumped into a boat.
To use the oars was dangerous, for she had no
means of muffling them. But she contrived to
hoist a sail pushed off with a boat-hook, and
was soon stretching across the water for the
mouth of the harbor before a breeze light but
favorable. Having cleared the difficulties of
exit, she lay down, and unintentionally fell
asleep. When she awoke, the sun had been up
three or four hours; all was right otherwise;
but, had she not served as a sailor, Kate would
have trembled upon finding that, during her
long sleep of perhaps seven or eight hours, she
had lost sight of land, by what distance she

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could only guess, and in what direction was
to some degree doubtful. All this, however,
seemed a great advantage to the bold girl, throwing her thoughts back on the enemies she had
left behind. The disadvantage was, having no
breakfast, not even damaged biscuit; and some
anxiety naturally arose as to ulterior prospects
a little beyond the horizon of breakfast. But
who 's afraid? As sailors whistle for a wind,
Catalina really had but to whistle for any thing
with energy, and it was sure to come. Like
Caesar to the pilot of Dyrrhachium, she might
have said, for the comfort of her poor timorous
boat (though destined soon to perish), " Catalinam vehis, et fortunas ejus." Meantime, being very doubtful as to the best course for sailing, and content if her course did but lie off
shore, she " carried on," as sailors say, under
easy sail, going, in fact, just whither and just
how the Pacific breezes suggested in the gentlest of whispers. All right behind, was Kate's
opinion; and, what was better, very soon she
might say, All right ahead; for, some hour or
two before sunset, when dinner was for once
becoming, even to Kate, the most interesting
of subjects for meditation, suddenly a large
ship began to swell upon the brilliant atmosphere. In those latitudes, and in those years,
any ship was pretty sure to be Spanish: sixty

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years later, the odds were in favor of its being
an English buccaneer, which would have given
a new direction to Kate's energy. Kate continued to make signals with a handkerchief
whiter than the crocodile's of Ann. Dom. 1592,
else it would hardly have been noticed. Perhaps, after all, it would not, but that the ship's
course carried her very nearly across Kate's.
The stranger lay-to for her. It was dark by the
time Kate steered herself under the ship's
quarter ; and then was seen an instance of this
girl's eternal wakefulness.
Something was
painted on the stern of her boat, she could not
see what; but she judged that it would express
some connection with the port that she had
just quitted. Now, it was her wish to break
the chain of traces connecting her with such a
scamp as Urquiza; since else, through his commercial correspondence, he might disperse over
Peru a portrait of herself by no means flattering. How should she accomplish this ? It was
dark; and she stood, as you may see an Etonian do at times, rocking her little boat from
side to side until it had taken in water as
much as might be agreeable. Too much it
proved for the boat's constitution, and the boat
perished of dropsy-Kate declining to tap it.
She got a ducking herself; but what cared she?
Up the ship's side she went, as gayly as ever,

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in those years when she was called pussy, she
had raced after the nuns of St. Sebastian,
jumped upon deck, and told the first lieutenant
when he questioned her about her adventures,
quite as much truth as any man, under the
rank of admiral, had a right to expect.
This ship was full of recruits for the Spanish
army and bound for Concepcion. Even in that
destiny was an iteration or repeating memorial
of the significance that ran through Catalina's
most casual adventures.
She had enlisted
amongst the soldiers; and on reaching port the
very first person who came off from shore was
a dashing young military officer, whom at once,
by his name and rank (though she had never
consciously seen him), she identified as her
own brother. He was splendidly situated in
the service, being the governor-general's secretary, besides his rank as a cavalry officer; and,
his errand on board being to inspect the recruits, naturally, on reading in the roll one of
them described as a Biscayan, the ardent young
man came up with highbred courtesy to Catalina, took the young recruit's hand with kindness, feeling that to be a compatriot at so great
a distance was to be a sort of relative, and asked
with emotion after old boyish remembrances.
There was a scriptural pathos in what followed,
as if it were some scene of domestic reunion

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opening itself from patriarchal ages.
The
young officer was the eldest son of the house,
and had left Spain when Catalina was only
three years old. But, singularly enough, Catalina it was, the little wild-cat that he yet remembered seeing at St. Sebastian's, upon whom
his earliest inquiries settled. " Did the recruit
know his family, the De Erausos ? " Oh, yes;
every body knew them. " Did the recruit
know little Catalina ? " Catalina smiled as she
replied that she did, and gave such an animated
description of the little fiery wretch as made
the officer's eye flash with gratified tenderness,
and with certainty that the recruit was no counterfeit Biscayan. Indeed, you know, if Kate
could n't give a good description of "pussy,"
who could? The issue of the interview was,
that the officer insisted on Kate's making a
home of his quarters. He did other services
for his unknown sister. He placed her as a
trooper in his own regiment, and favored her
in many a way that is open to one having
authority. But the person, after all, that did
most for our Kate, was Kate. War was then
raging with Indians both from Chili and Peru.
Kate had always done her duty in action; but
at length, in the decisive battle of Puren, there
was an opening for doing something more.
Havoc had been made of her own squadron;

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most of the officers were killed, and the standard was carried off. Kate gathered around her
a small party-galloped after the Indian column that was carrying away the trophy charged-saw all her own party killed-but (in
spite of wounds on her face and shoulder) succeeded in bearing away the recovered standard.
She rode up to the general and his staff; she
dismounted; she rendered up her prize, and
fainted away, much less from the blinding blood
than from the tears of joy which dimmed her
eyes as the general, waving his sword in admiration over her head, pronounced our Kate on the
spot an alfirez,' or standard-bearer, with a commission from the King of Spain and the Indies.
Bonny Kate ! noble Kate! I would there were not
two centuries laid between us, so that I might
have the pleasure of kissing thy fair hand.
Kate had the good sense to see the danger of
revealing her sex, or her relationship, even to
her own brother. The grasp of the church
never relaxed, never "prescribed,"
unless
freely and by choice. The nun, if discovered,
would have been taken out of the horse barracks or the dragoon saddle. She had the firmness, therefore, for many years to resist the
sisterly impulses that sometimes suggested
such a confidence. For years, and those years
the most important of her life,-the years that

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developed her character,-she lived undetected
as a brilliant cavalry officer under her brother's
patronage; and the bitterest grief in poor
Kate's whole life was the tragical (and, were it
not fully attested, one might say the ultrascenical) event that dissolved their long connection. Let me spend a word of apology on
poor Kate's errors. We all commit many-both
you and I, reader. No, stop; that 's not civil.
You, reader, I know, are a saint; I am not,
though very near it. I do err at long intervals;
and then I think with indulgence of the many
circumstances that plead for this poor girl.
The Spanish armies of that day inherited, from
the days of Cortez and Pizarro, shining remembrances of martial prowess and the very worst
of ethics. To think little of bloodshed, to
quarrel, to fight, to gamble, to plunder, belonged to the very atmosphere of a camp, to its
indolence, to its ancient traditions. In your own
defence, you were obliged to do such things.
Besides all these grounds of evil, the Spanish
army had just there an extra demoralization from
a war with savages faithless and bloody. Do not
think, I beseech you, too much, reader, of killing a man. That word "kill" is sprinkled over
every page of Kate's own autobiography. It
ought not to be read by the light of these days.
?
Yet, how if a man that she killed were -

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Hush! It was sad, but is better hurried over in
a few words. Years after this period, a young
officer one day, dining with Kate, entreated
her to become his second in a duel. Such
things were every-day affairs. However, Kate
had reasons for declining the service and did
so; but the officer, as he was sullenly departing, said, that, if he were killed (as he thought
he should be), his death would lie at Kate's
door. I do not take his view of the case, and
am not moved by his rhetoric or his logic.
Kate was, and relented. The duel was fixed
for eleven at night, under the walls of a monastery. Unhappily the night proved unusually
dark, so that the two principals had to tie white
handkerchiefs round their elbows in order to
descry each other. In the confusion they
wounded each other mortally. Upon that,
according to a usage not peculiar to Spaniards,
but extending (as doubtless the reader knows)
for a century longer to our own countrymen,
the two seconds were obliged, in honor, to do
something towards avenging their principals.
Kate had her usual fatal luck. Her sword
passed sheer through the body of her opponent.
This unknown opponent, falling dead, had just
breath left to cry out, "Ah, villain, you have
killed me ! " in a voice of horrific reproach;
and the voice was the voice of her brother!

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The monks of the monastery under whose
silent shadows this murderous duel had taken
place, roused by the clashing of swords and
the angry shouts of combatants, issued out with
torches to find one only of the four officers
surviving. Every convent and altar had a right
of asylum for a short period. According to the
custom, the monks carried Kate, insensible
with anguish of mind to the sanctuary of their
chapel. There, for some days, they detained
her; but then, having furnished her with a
horse and some provisions, they turned her
adrift. Which way should the unhappy fugitive turn? In blindness of heart she turned
towards the sea. It was the sea that had
brought her to Peru; it was the sea that would,
perhaps, carry her away. It was the sea that
had first shown her this land and its golden
hopes; it was the sea that ought to hide from
her its fearful remembrances. The sea it was
that had twice spared her life in extremities;
the sea it was that might now, if it chose, take
back the bawble that it had spared in vain.
KATE'S PASSAGE OVER THE ANDES.

Three days our poor heroine followed the
coast. Her horse was then almost unable to
move; and, on his account, she turned inland to

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a thicket for grass and shelter. As she drew near
to it, a voice challenged, " Who goes there ? "
" What people?"
Kate answered, "Spain."
"A friend." It was two soldiers, deserters, and
almost starving. Kate shared her provisions
with these men; and on hearing their plan,
which was to go over the Cordilleras, she agreed
to join the party. Their object was the wild
one of seeking the river Dorado, whose waters
rolled along golden sands and whose pebbles
were emeralds. Hers was to throw herself upon
a line the least liable to pursuit, and the readiest for a new chapter of life in which oblivion
might be found for the past. After a few days
of incessant climbing and fatigue, they found
themselves in the regions of perpetual snow.
Summer would come as vainly to this kingdom
of frost as to the grave of her brother. No fire,
but the fire of human blood in youthful veins,
could ever be kept burning in these aerial
solitudes. Fuel was rarely to be found, and
kindling a secret hardly known except to Indians. However, our Kate can do every thing;
and she 's the girl, if ever girl did such a thing,
or ever girl did not such a thing, that I back at
any odds for crossing the Cordilleras. I would
bet you something now, reader, if I thought you
would deposit your stakes by return of post (as
they play at chess through the post office),

220

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that Kate does the trick; that she gets down
to the other side; that the soldiers do not;
and that the horse, if preserved at all, is preserved in a way that will leave him very little
to boast of.
The party had gathered wild berries and
esculent roots at the foot of the mountains, and
the horse was of very great use in carrying
them. But this larder was soon emptied. There
was nothing then to carry; so that the horse's
value, as a beast of burden, fell cent. per cent.
In fact, very soon he could not carry himself,
and it became easy to calculate when he would
reach the bottom on the wrong side the Cordilleras. He took three steps back for one upwards.
A council of war being held, the small army
resolved to slaughter their horse. He, though
a member of the expedition, had no vote; and,
if he had, the votes would have stood three to
one-majority, two against him. He was cut
into quarters; which surprises me; for, unless
one quarter was considered his own share, it reminds one too much of this amongst the many
facetie of English midshipmen, who ask (on any
one of their number looking sulky) " if it is his
intention to marry and retire from the service
upon a superannuation of £4 4s. 4%d. a year,
paid quarterly by way of bothering the purser."'
The purser can't do it with the help of farthings ;

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221

and, as respects aliquot parts, four shares among
three persons are as incommensurable as a guinea
is against any attempt at giving change in half
crowns. However, this was all the preservation
that the horse found. No saltpetre or sugar
could be had; but the frost was antiseptic, and
the horse was preserved in as useful a sense as
ever apricots were preserved or strawberries.
On a fire, painfully devised out of broom and
withered leaves, a horsesteak was dressed. For
drink, snow was allowed a discretion. This
ought to have revived the party; and Kate,
perhaps, it did. But the poor deserters were
thinly clad, and they had not the boiling heart
of Catalina. More and more they drooped.
Kate did her best to cheer them. But the
march was nearly at an end for them, and they
were going in one half hour to receive their last
billet. Yet, before this consummation, they have
a strange spectacle to see, such as few places
could show but the upper chambers of the Cordilleras. They had reached a billowy scene of
rocky masses, large and small, looking shockingly black on their perpendicular sides as they
rose out of the vast, snowy expanse. Upon the
highest of these that was accessible Kate
mounted to look around her; and she sawO, rapture at such an hour !-a man sitting on
a shelf of rock, with a gun by his side. She

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shouted with joy to her comrades, and ran
down to communicate the joyful news. Here
was a sportsman, watching, perhaps, for an
eagle; and now they would have relief. One
man's cheek kindled with the hectic of sudden
joy, and he rose eagerly to march. The other
was fast sinking under the fatal sleep that Frost
sends before herself as her merciful minister of
death; but hearing in his dream the tidings of
relief, and assisted by his friends, he also staggeringly arose. It could not be three minutes'
walk, Kate thought, to the station of the sportsman. That thought supported them all. Under
Kate's guidance, who had taken a sailor's glance
at the bearings, they soon unthreaded the labyrinth of rocks so far as to bring the man within
view. He had not left his resting-place; their
steps on the soundless snow, naturally, he could
not hear; and, as their road brought them upon
him from the rear, still less could he see them.
Kate hailed him; but so keenly was he absorbed
in some speculation, or in the object of his
watching, that he took no notice of them, not
even moving his head. Kate began to think
there would be another man to rouse from
sleep. Coming close behind him, she touched
his shoulder, and said: "My friend, are you
sleeping?" Yes, he was sleeping-sleeping the
sleep from which there is no awaking; and the

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slight touch of Kate having disturbed the equilibrium of the corpse, down it rolled on the
snow; the frozen body rang like a hollow iron
cylinder, the face uppermost and blue with
mould, mouth open, teeth ghastly and bleaching in the frost, and a frightful grin upon the
lips. This dreadful spectacle finished the struggles of the weaker man, who sank and died at
once. The other made an effort with so much
spirit, that, in Kate's opinion, horror had acted
upon him beneficially as a stimulant. But it
was not really so; it was a spasm of morbid
strength. A collapse succeeded; his blood began to freeze; he sat down in spite of Kate;
and he also died without further struggle.
Gone are the poor, suffering deserters, stretched
and bleaching upon the snow; and insulted
discipline is avenged. Great kings have long
arms; and sycophants are ever at hand for the
errand of the potent. What had frost and snow
to do with the quarrel? Yet they made themselves sycophantic servants of the King of
Spain; and they dogged his deserters up to the
summit of the Cordilleras more surely than any
Spanish bloodhound or any Spanish tirailleur's
bullet.
Now is our Kate standing alone on the summits of the Andes in solitude that is shocking;
for she is alone with her own afflicted con-

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science. Twice before she had stood in solitude
as deep upon the wild, wild waters of the Pacific: but her conscience had been then untroubled. Now is there nobody left that can
help; her horse is dead; the soldiers are dead.
There is nobody that she can speak to except
God; and very soon you will find that she does
speak to Him ; for already on those vast aerial
deserts He has been whispering to her. The
condition of Kate is exactly that of Coleridge's
Ancient Mifariner. But possibly, reader, you
may be amongst the many careless readers that
have never fully understood what that condition
was. Suffer me to enlighten you, else you ruin
the story of the mariner, and, by losing all its
pathos, lose half the jewels of its beauty.
There are three readers of the " Ancient Mariner." The first is gross enough to fancy all the
imagery of the mariner's visions delivered by
the poet for actual facts of experience; which
being impossible, the whole pulverizes, for that
reader, into a baseless fairy-tale. The second
reader is wiser than that; he knows that the
imagery is not baseless; it is the imagery of
febrile delirium, really seen, but not seen as an
external reality. The mariner had caught the
pestilential fever, which carried off all his
mates ; he only had survived-the delirium had
vanished; but the visions that had haunted the

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delirium remained.
"Yes,"
says the third
reader, "they remained; naturally they did;
being scorched by fever into his brain ;" but
how did they happen to remain on his belief as
gospel truths ? The delirium had vanished;
why had not the painted scenery of the delirium vanished, except as visionary memorials of
a sorrow that was cancelled ? Why was it that
craziness settled upon this mariner's brain,
driving him, as if he were a Cain or another
Wandering Jew, to " pass like night-from land
to land," and, at uncertain intervals, wrenching
him until he made rehearsal of his errors, even
at the hard price of "holding children from
their play and old men from the chimney corner" ? 14 That craziness, as the third reader
deciphers, rose out of a deeper soil than any
bodily affection. It had its root in penitential
sorrow. 0, bitter is the sorrow to a conscientious heart when too late it discovers the depth
of a love that has been trampled under foot!
This mariner had slain the creature that, on all
the earth, loved him best. In the darkness of
his cruel superstition he had done it, to save his
human brothers from a fancied inconvenience;
and yet, by that very act of cruelty, he had himself called destruction upon their heads. The
Nemesis that followed punished him through
them-him that wronged, through those that

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wrongfully he sought to benefit. That spirit
who watches over the sanctities of love is a
strong angel-is a jealous angel, and this angel
it was
" That loved the bird, that loved the man,
That shot him with his bow."

He it was that followed the cruel archer into
silent and slumbering seas :" Nine fathoms deep he had followed him.
Through the realms of mist and snow."

This jealous angel it was that pursued the man
into noonday darkness, and the vision of dying
oceans, into delirium, and, finally, (when recovered from disease,) into an unsettled mind.
Such, also, had been the offence of Kate:
such, also, was the punishment that now is
dogging her steps. She, like the mariner, had
slain the one sole creature that loved her upon
the whole wide earth; she, like the mariner,
for this offence, had been hunted into frost and
snow-very soon will be hunted into delirium;
and from that (if she escapes with life) will be
hunted into the trouble of a heart that cannot
rest. There was the excuse of one darkness for
her; there was the excuse of another darkness
for the mariner; but, with all the excuses that

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227

earth, and the darkness of earth, can furnish,
bitter it would be for you or me, reader, through
every hour of life, waking or dreaming, to look
back upon one fatal moment when we had
pierced the heart that would have died for us.
In this only the darkness had been merciful to
Kate-that it had hidden forever from her victim the hand that slew him. But now, in such
utter solitude, her thoughts ran back to their
earliest interview. She remembered with anguish how, on first touching the shores of
America, almost the very first word that met
her ear had been from him, the brother whom
she had killed, about the "pussy" of times
long past; how the gallant young man had
hung upon her words as in her native Basque
she described her own mischievous little self of
twelve years back; how his color went and
came whilst his loving memory of the little
sister was revived by her own descriptive traits,
giving back, as in a mirror, the fawn-like grace,
the squirrel-like restlessness, that once had kindled his own delighted laughter; how he would
take no denial, but showed on the spot, that
simply to have touched, to have kissed, to have
played with the little wild thing that glorified
by her innocence the gloom of St. Sebastian's
cloisters, gave a right to his hospitality ; how,
through him only, she had found a welcome in

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camps; how, through him, she had found the
avenue to honor and distinction. And yet this
brother, so loving and generous, it was that
she had dismissed from life. She paused; she
turned round, as if looking back for his grave;
she saw the dreadful wildernesses of snow
which already she had traversed. Silent they
were at this season, even as, in the pantingi
heats of noon, the Zaarrahs of the torrid zone
are oftentimes silent. Dreadful was the silence ;
it was the nearest thing to the silence of the
grave. Graves were at the foot of the Andesthat she knew too well; graves were at the
summit of the Andes-that she saw too well;
and, as she gazed, a sudden thought flashed
upon her when her eyes settled upon the corpses
of the poor deserters: Could she, like them,
have been all this while unconsciously executing judgment upon herself-running from a
wrath that was doubtful into the very jaws of a
wrath that was inexorable-dying in panic, and
behold there was no man that pursued? For
the first time in her life, Kate trembled: not
for the first time, Kate wept; far less for the
first time was it that Kate bent her knee-that
Kate clasped her hands-that Kate prayed; but
it was the first time that she prayed as they
pray for whom no more hope is left but in
prayer.

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Here let me pause for a moment for the sake
of making somebody angry. A Frenchman,
who sadly misjudges Kate, looking at her
through a Parisian opera-glass, gives it as his
opinion, that, as Kate first records her prayer
on this occasion, therefore now first of all she
prayed. I think not so; I love this Kate,
bloodstained as she is; and I could not love a
woman that never bent her knee in thankfulness or in supplication. However, we have all
a right to our own little opinion ; and it is not
you, "mon cher," you Frenchman, that I am
angry with, but somebody else that stands behind you. You, Frenchman, and your compatriots, I love oftentimes for your festal gayety of heart; and I quarrel only with your
levity and that eternal worldliness that freezes
too fiercely-that absolutely blisters with its
You
frost-like the upper air of the Andes.
speak of Kate only as too readily you speak of
all women-the instinct of a natural skepticism
being to scoff at all hidden depths of truth;
else you are civil enough to Kate; and your
"homage" (such as it may happen to be) is
always at the service of a woman on the shortest
notice. But, behind you I see a worse fellow ;
a gloomy fanatic; a religious sycophant, that
seeks to propitiate his circle by bitterness
against the offences that are most unlike his

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own; and against him I must say one for Kate
to the too hasty reader. This villain, whom I
mark for a shot if he does not get out of the
way, opens his fire on our Kate under shelter
of a lie; for there is a standing lie in the very
constitution of civil society, a necessity of error,
misleading us as to the proportions of crime.
Merely necessity obliges man to create many
acts into felonies, and to punish them as the
heaviest offences, which his better sense teaches
him secretly to regard as perhaps among the
lightest. Those poor deserters, for instance,were they necessarily without excuse? They
might have been oppressively used; but in
critical times of war, no matter for the individual palliations, the deserter from his colors
must be shot-there is no help for it; as, in
extremities of general famine, we shoot the
man (alas! we are obliged to shoot him) that is
found robbing the common stores in order to
feed his own perishing children, though the
offence is hardly visible in the sight of God.
Only blockheads adjust their scale of guilt to
the scale of human punishments. Now, our
wicked friend the fanatic, who calumniates
Kate, abuses the advantages which, for such a
purpose, he derives from the exaggerated social
estimate of all violence. Personal security being so main an object of social union, we are

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231

obliged to frown upon all modes of violence as
hostile to the central principle of that union.
We are obliged to rate it according to the universal results towards which it tends, and
scarcely at all according to the special condition
of circumstances in which it may originate.
Hence a horror arises for that class of offences
which is (philosophically speaking) exaggerated; and, by daily use, the ethics of a
police office translate themselves insensibly
into the ethics even of religious people. But I
tell that sycophantish fanatic, not this only,viz., that he abuses unfairly, against Kate, the
advantage which he has from the inevitably
distorted bias of society,-but also I tell him
this second little thing, viz., that, upon turning
away the glass from that one obvious aspect of
Kate's character,-her too fiery disposition to
vindicate all rights by violence,-and viewing
her in relation to general religious capacities,
she was a thousand times more promisingly
endowed than himself. It is impossible to be
noble in many things without having many
points of contact with true religion. If you deny
that, you it is that calumniate religion. Kate was
noble in many things. Her worst errors never
took a shape of self-interest or deceit. She was
brave, she was generous, she was forgiving, she
bore no malice, she was full of truth-qualities

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Iun

that God loves either in man or woman. She
hated sycophants and dissemblers. I hate
them; and more than ever at this moment, on
her behalf. I wish she were but here to give a
punch on the head to that fellow who traduces
her. And, coming round again to the occasion
from which this short digression has started,viz., the question raised by the Frenchman,
whether Kate were a person likely to pray
under other circumstances than those of extreme danger,-I offer it as my opinion that
she was. Violent people are not always such
from choice, but perhaps from situation; and,
though the circumstances of Kate's position
allowed her little means for realizing her own
wishes, it is certain that those wishes pointed
continually to peace and an unworldly happiness, if that were possible. The stormy
clouds that enveloped her in camps opened
overhead at intervals, showing her a far-distant
blue serene. She yearned, at many times, for
the rest which is not in camps or armies; and
it is certain that she ever combined with any
plans or day-dreams of tranquillity, as their
most essential ally, some aid derived from that
dovelike religion which at St. Sebastian's, as
an infant and through girlhood, she had been
taught so profoundly to adore.
Now, let us rise from this discussion of Kate

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panth

~b
un

233

against libellers, as Kate herself is rising from
prayer, and consider in conjunction with her
the character and promise of that dreadful
ground which lies immediately before her.
What is to be thought of it? I could wish we
had a theodolite here, and a spirit level, and
other instruments, for settling some important
questions. Yet no: on consideration, if one
had a wish allowed by that kind fairy without
whose assistance it would be quite impossible
to send even for the spirit level, nobody would
throw away the wish upon things so paltry. I
would not put the fairy upon any such errand;
I would order the good creature to bring no
spirit level, but a stiff glass of spirits, for Kate
-a palanquin, and relays of fifty stout bearers,
all drunk, in order that they might not feel the
cold. The main interest at this moment and
the main difficulty-indeed, the "open question" of the case-was, to ascertain whether
the ascent were yet accomplished or not; and
when would the descent commence? or had
it, perhaps, long commenced? The character
of the ground, in those immediate successions that could be connected by the eye,
decided nothing; for the undulations of the
level had been so continual for miles as to
perplex any eye but an engineer's in attempting to judge whether, upon the whole, the ten-

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dency were upwards or downwards. Possibly
it was yet neither way; it is, indeed, probable
that Kate had been for some time travelling
along a series of terraces that traversed the
whole breadth of the topmost area at that point
of crossing the Cordilleras, and which, perhaps,
but not certainly, compensated any casual tendencies downwards by corresponding reascents.
Then came the question, How long would these
terraces yet continue? and had the ascending
parts really balanced the descending? Upon
that seemed to rest the final chance for Kate;
because, unless she very soon reached a lower
level and a warmer atmosphere, mere weariness
would oblige her to lie down under a fierceness
of cold that would not suffer her to rise after
once losing the warmth of motion; or, inversely, if she even continued in motion, mere
extremity of cold would, of itself, speedily absorb the little surplus energy for moving which
yet remained unexhausted by weariness.
At this stage of her progress, and whilst the
agonizing question seemed yet as indeterminate as ever, Kate's struggle with despair, which
had been greatly soothed by the fervor of her
prayer, revolved upon her in deadlier blackness. All turned, she saw, upon a race against
time and the arrears of the road; and she,
poor thing! how little qualified could she be,

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235

in such a condition, for a race of any kind,
and against two such obstinate brutes as time
and space! This hour of the progress, this
noontide of Kate's struggle, must have been
the very crisis of the whole.
Despair was
rapidly tending to ratify itself. Hope, in any
degree, would be a cordial for sustaining her
efforts. But to flounder along a dreadful chaos
of snow drifts, or snow chasms, towards a point
of rock, which, being turned, should expose
only another interminable succession of the
same character,-might that be endured by
ebbing spirits, by stiffening limbs, by the
ghastly darkness that was now beginning to
gather upon the inner eye? And, if once despair became triumphant, all the little arrear of
physical strength would collapse at once.
O verdure of human fields, cottages of men
and women (that now suddenly seemed all
brothers and sisters), cottages with children
around them at play, that are so far below,-O
summer and spring, flowers and blossoms, to
which, as to his symbols, God has given the
gorgeous privilege of rehearsing forever upon
earth his most mysterious perfection-life and
the resurrections of life,-is it indeed true that
poor Kate must never see you more? Mutteringly she put that question to herself; but
strange are the caprices of ebb and flow in the

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deep fountains of human sensibilities. At this
very moment, when the utter incapacitation
of despair was gathering fast at Kate's heart, a
sudden lightening shot far into her spirit, a reflux almost supernatural, from the earliest
effects of her prayer. A thought had struck
her all at once; and this thought prompted her
immediately to turn round. Perhaps it was in
some blind yearning after the only memorials
of life in this frightful region that she fixed her
eye upon a point of hilly ground, by which she
identified the spot near which the three corpses
were lying. The silence seemed deeper than
ever. Neither was there any phantom memorial of life for the eye or for the ear, nor wing
of bird, nor echo, nor green leaf, nor creeping
thing that moved or stirred upon the soundless
waste. 0, what a relief to this burden of silence
would be a human groan! Here seemed a motive for still darker despair; and yet at that
very moment a pulse of joy began to thaw the
ice at her heart. It struck her, as she reviewed
the ground, that undoubtedly it had been for
some time slowly descending. Her senses were
much dulled by suffering; but this thought it
was, suggested by a sudden apprehension of a
continued descending movement, which had
caused her to turn round. Sight had confirmed
the suggestion first derived from her own steps.

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237

The distance attained was now sufficient to establish the tendency. 0, yes, yes, to a certainty
she had been descending for some time. Frightful was the spasm of joy which whispered that
the worst was over. It was as when the shadow
of midnight, that murderers had relied on, is
passing away from your beleaguered shelter,
and dawn will soon be manifest. It was as
when a flood, that all day long has raved
against the walls of your house, has ceased
(you suddenly think) to rise: yes, measured by
a golden plummet, it is sinking beyond a doubt,
and the darlings of your household are saved.
Kate faced round in agitation to her proper
direction. She saw, what previously in her
stunning confusion she had not seen, that,
hardly two stones' throw in advance, lay a mass
of rock, split as into a gateway. Through that
opening it now became probable that the road
was lying. Hurrying forward, she passed within
the natural gates-gates of paradise they were.
Ah, what a vista did that gateway expose before
her dazzled eye ! what a revelation of heavenly
promise! Full two miles long stretched a long,
narrow glen, everywhere descending, and in
many parts rapidly. All was now placed beyond a doubt. She was descending, for hours,
perhaps, had been descending, insensibly, the
mighty staircase. Yes, Kate is leaving behind

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her the kingdom of frost and the victories of
death. Two miles farther there may be rest, if
there is not shelter. And very soon, as the
crest of her newborn happiness, she distinguished at the other end of that rocky vista
a pavilion-shaped mass of dark-green foliagea belt of trees, such as we see in the lovely
parks of England, but islanded by a screen
(though not everywhere occupied by the
usurpations) of a thick, bushy undergrowth.
O verdure of dark olive foliage, offered suddenly
to fainting eyes as if by some winged patriarchal
herald of wrath relenting,-solitary Arab's tent
rising with saintly signals of peace in the dreadful desert,-must Kate indeed die even yet
whilst she sees but cannot reach you ? Outpost
on the frontier of man's dominions, standing
within life, but looking out upon everlasting
death, wilt thou hold up the anguish of thy
mocking invitation only to betray?
Never,
perhaps, in this world was the line so exquisitely grazed that parts salvation and ruin.
As the dove to her dovecot from the swooping
hawk, as the Christian pinnace to Christian
batteries from the bloody Mahometan corsair,
so flew, so tried to fly, towards the anchoring
thickets, that, alas! could not weigh their anchors and make sail to meet her, the poor, exhausted Kate from the vengeance of pursuing frost.

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And she reached them. Staggering, fainting,
reeling, she entered beneath the canopy of umbrageous trees. But, as oftentimes the Hebrew
fugitive to a city of refuge, flying for his life
before the avenger of blood, was pressed so
hotly that, on entering the archway of what
seemed to him the heavenly city gate, as he
kneeled in deep thankfulness to kiss its holy,
merciful shadow, he could not rise again, but
sank instantly with infant weakness into sleep,
-sometimes to wake no more,-so sank, so collapsed upon the ground, without power to choose
her couch, and with little prospect of ever rising
again to her feet, the martial nun. She lay, as
luck had ordered it, with her head screened by
the undergrowth of bushes from any gales that
might arise; she lay exactly as she sank, with
her eyes up to heaven. And thus it was that
the nun saw, before falling asleep, the two
sights that upon earth are fittest for the closing
eyes of a nun, whether destined to open again
or to close forever. She saw the interlacing of
boughs overhead, forming a dome that seemed
like the dome of a cathedral. She saw through
the fretwork of the foliage another dome, far
beyond-the dome of an evening sky-the dome
of some heavenly cathedral not built with hands.
She saw upon this upper dome the vesper lights,
all alive with pathetic grandeur of coloring from

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a sunset that had just been rolling down like a
chorus. She had not till now consciously observed the time of day: whether it were morning, or whether it were afternoon, in her
confusion she had not distinctly known. But
now she whispered to herself, " It is evening" ;
and what lurked half unconsciously in these
words might be: "The sun, that rejoices, has
finished his daily toil; man, that labors, has
finished his , I, that suffer, have finished mine."
That might be what she thought; but what she
said was : " It is evening; and the hour is come
when the Angelus is sounding through St.
Sebastian." What made her think of St. Sebastian, so far away in depths of space and time?
Her brain was wandering now that her feet
were not; and, because her eyes had descended
from the heavenly to the earthly dome, that
made her think of earthly cathedrals, and of
cathedral choirs, and of St. Sebastian's chapel,
with its silvery bells that carried the Angelus
far into mountain recesses. Perhaps, as her
wanderings increased, she thought herself back
in childhood; became "pussy" once again;
fancied that all since then was a frightful dream ;
that she was not upon the dreadful Andes, but
still kneeling in the holy chapel at vespers;
still innocent as then; loved as then she had
been loved; and that all men were liars who

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241

said her hand was ever stained with blood.
Little enough is mentioned of the delusions
which possessed her; but that little gives a key
to the impulse which her palpitating heart
obeyed and which her rambling brain forever
reproduced in multiplying mirrors. Restlessness kept her in waking dreams for a brief half
hour. But then fever and delirium would wait
no longer; the killing exhaustion would no
longer be refused; the fever, the delirium, and
the exhaustion swept in together with power
like an army with banners; and the nun ceased
through the gathering twilight any more to
watch the cathedrals of earth or the more
solemn cathedrals that rose in the heavens
above.
All night long she slept in her verdurous
St. Bernard's hospice without awaking; and
whether she would ever awake seemed to depend upon an accident. The slumber that
towered above her brain was like that fluctuating,
silvery column which stands in scientific tubes
-- sinking, rising, deepening, lightening, contracting, expanding; or like the mist that sifts
through sultry afternoons upon the river of the
American St. Peter, sometimes rarefying for
minutes into sunny gauze, sometimes condensing for hours into palls of funeral darkness.
You fancy that, after twelve hours of any sleep,

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she must have been refreshed; better, at least,
than she was last night. Ah, but sleep is not
always sent upon missions of refreshment;
sleep is sometimes the secret chamber in which
Death arranges his machinery; sleep is sometimes that deep, mysterious atmosphere in which
the human spirit is slowly unsettling its wings
for flight from earthly tenements. It is now
eight o'clock in the morning; and, to all appearance, if Kate should receive no aid before
noon, when next the sun is departing to his
rest, Kate will be departing to hers ; when next
the sun is holding out his golden Christian
signal to man that the hour is come for letting
his anger go down, Kate will be sleeping away
forever into the arms of brotherly forgiveness.
What is wanted just now for Kate, supposing
Kate herself to be wanted by this world, is that
this world would be kind enough to send her a
little brandy before it is too late. The simple
truth was,-and a truth which I have known to
take place in more ladies than Kate, who died,
or did not die, accordingly as they had or had
not an adviser like myself capable of giving so
sound an opinion,-that the jewelly star of life
had descended too far down the arch towards
setting for any chance of reascending by spontaneous effort. The fire was still burning in
secret, but needed to be rekindled by potent

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243

artificial breath. It lingered, and might linger,
but would never culminate again without some
5
Kate was
stimulus from earthly vineyards.'
ever lucky, though ever unfortunate; and the
world, being of my opinion, that Kate was
worth saving, made up its mind, about half
past eight o'clock in the morning, to save her.
Just at that time, when the night was over and
its sufferings were hidden in one of those intermitting gleams that for a moment or two lightened the clouds of her slumber, Kate's dull ear
caught a sound that for years had spoken a
familiar language to her. What was it ? It was
the sound, though muffled and deadened, like
the ear that heard it, of horsemen advancing.
Interpreted by the tumultuous dreams of Kate,
was it the cavalry of Spain, at whose head so
often she had charged the bloody Indian
scalpers? Was it, according to the legend of
ancient days, cavalry that had been sown by
her brother's blood, cavalry that rose from the
ground on an inquest of retribution, and were
racing up the Andes to seize her? Her dreams,
that had opened sullenly to the sound, waited
for no answer, but closed again into pompous
darkness. Happily the horsemen had caught
the glimpse of some bright ornament, clasp, or
aigulet, on Kate's dress. They were hunters
and foresters from below-servants from the

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household of a beneficent lady; and, in some
pursuit of flying game, had wandered beyond
their ordinary limits. Struck by the sudden
scintillation from Kate's dress played upon by
the morning sun, they rode up to the thicket.
Great was their surprise, great their pity, to see
a young officer in uniform stretched within the
bushes upon the ground, and perhaps dying.
Borderers from childhood on this dreadful
frontier, sacred to winter and death, they
They disunderstood the case at once.
mounted; and with the tenderness of women,
raising the poor frozen cornet in their arms,
washed her temples with brandy, whilst one, at
intervals, suffered a few drops to trickle within
her lips. As the restoration of a warm bed was
now most likely to be successful, they lifted
the helpless stranger upon a horse, walking on
each side with supporting arms. Once again
our Kate is in the saddle-once again a Spanish
caballador. But Kate's bridle hand is deadly
cold; and her spurs, that she had never unfastened since leaving the monastic asylum, hung
as idle as the flapping sail that fills unsteadily
with the breeze upon a stranded ship.
This procession had some miles to go, and
over difficult ground; but at length it reached
the forest-like park and the chateau of the
wealthy proprietress. Kate was still half frozen

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245

and speechless except at intervals. Heavens!
can this corpselike, languishing young woman
be the Kate that once in her radiant girlhood
rode with a handful of comrades into a column
of two thousand enemies; that saw her comrades die ; that persisted when all were dead;
that tore from the heart of all resistance the
banner of her native Spain? Chance and
change have "written strange defeatures in
her face." Much is changed; but some things
are not changed; there is still kindness that
overflows with pity; there is still helplessness
that asks for this pity without a voice. She is
now received by a sefiora not less kind than
that maternal aunt who, on the night of her
birth, first welcomed her to a loving home; and
she, the heroine of Spain, is herself as helpless
now as that little lady who, then at ten minutes
of age, was kissed and blessed by all the household of St. Sebastian.
Let us suppose Kate placed in a warm bed;
let us suppose her in a few hours recovering
steady consciousness; in a few days recovering
some power of self-support ; in a fortnight able
to seek the gay salon, where the sefiora was
sitting alone, and rendering thanks, with that
deep sincerity which ever characterized our
wild-hearted Kate, for the critical services received from that lady and her establishment.

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This lady, a widow, was what the French call
a mitisse, the Spaniards a mestizza ; that is,
the daughter of a genuine Spaniard and an Indian mother. I shall call her simply a creole,"
which will indicate her want of pure Spanish
blood sufficiently to explain her deference for
those who had it. She was a kind, liberal
woman; rich rather more than needed where
there were no opera boxes to rent; a widow
about fifty years old in the wicked world's
account, some forty-four in her own; and happy,
above all, in the possession of a most lovely
daughter, whom even the wicked world did not
This
accuse of more than sixteen years.
But stop; let her
daughter, Juana, wasopen the door of the salon in which the sefiora
and the cornet are conversing, and speak for
herself. She did so, after an hour had passed;
which length of time, to her, that never had
any business whatever in her innocent life,
seemed sufficient to settle the business of the
old world and the new. Had Pietro Diaz (as
Catalina now called herself) been really a Peter,
and not a sham Peter, what a vision of loveliness would have rushed upon his sensibilities
as the door opened! Do not expect me to describe her; for which, however, there are materials extant, sleeping in archives, where they
have slept for two hundred and twenty years.

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It is enough that she is reported to have united
the stately tread of Andalusian women with the
innocent voluptuousness of Peruvian eyes. As
to her complexion and figure, be it known that
Juana's father was a gentleman from Granada,
having in his veins the grandest blood of all
this earth, blood of Goths and Vandals, tainted
(for which Heaven be thanked!) twice over
with blood of Arabs-once through Moors, once
1
through Jews; P whilst from her grandmother
Juana drew the deep subtle melancholy and the
beautiful contours of limb which belong to the
Indian race-a race destined silently and slowly
to fade from the earth. No awkwardness was,
or could be, in this antelope, when gliding with
forest grace into the room; no townbred shame;
nothing but the unaffected pleasure of one who
wishes to speak a fervent welcome, but knows
not if she ought-the astonishment of a Miranda, bred in utter solitude, when first beholding a princely Ferdinand; and just so much reserve as to remind you that, if Catalina thought
fit to dissemble her sex, she did not. And consider, reader, if you look back and are a great
arithmetician, that, whilst the sefiora had only
fifty per cent. of Spanish blood, Juana had
seventy-five; so that her Indian melancholy,
after all, was swallowed up for the present by
her Vandal, by her Arab, by her Spanish fire.

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Catalina, seared as she was by the world, has
left it evident in her memoirs that she was
touched more than she wished to be by this innocent child. Juana formed a brief lull for
Catalina in her too stormy existence; and if for
her in this life the sweet reality of a sister had
been possible, here was the sister she would
have chosen. On the other hand, what might
Juana think of the cornet? To have been
thrown upon the kind hospitalities of her
native home, to have been rescued by her
mother's servants from that fearful death which,
lying but a few miles off, had filled her nursery
with traditionary tragedies,-thatwas sufficient
to create an interest in the stranger. But his
bold martial demeanor, his yet youthful style
of beauty, his frank manners, his animated
conversation that reported a hundred contests
with suffering and peril, wakened for the first
time her admiration. Men she had never seen
before, except menial servants or a casual
priest; but here was a gentleman, young like
herself, that rode in the cavalry of Spain; that
carried the banner of the only potentate whom
Peruvians knew of-the King of the Spains and
the Indies; that had doubled Cape Horn; that
had crossed the Andes; that had suffered shipwreck; that had rocked upon fifty storms; and
had wrestled for life through fifty battles.

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249

The reader knows all that followed. The
sisterly love which Catalina did really feel for
this young mountaineer was inevitably misconstrued. Embarrassed, but not able, from
sincere affection, or almost in bare propriety,
to refuse such expressions of feeling as correspond to the artless and involuntary kindnesses of the ingenuous Juana, one day the
cornet was surprised by mamma in the act of
encircling her daughter's waist with his martial
arm, although waltzing was premature by at
least two centuries in Peru. She taxed him
instantly with dishonorably abusing her confidence. The cornet made but a bad defence.
He muttered something about "fraternalaffection," about "esteem," and a great deal of
metaphysical words that are destined to remain
untranslated in their original Spanish. The
good sefiora, though she could boast only of
forty-four years' experience, was not altogether
to be "had " in that fashion : she was as learned
as if she had been fifty; and she brought matters to a speedy crisis. " You are a Spaniard, "
she said, "a gentleman, therefore; remember
that you are a gentleman. This very night, if
your intentions are not serious, quit my house.
Go to Tucuman ; you shall command my horses
and servants; but stay no longer to increase
the sorrow that already you will have left be-

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hind you. My daughter loves you. That is
sorrow enough, if you are trifling with us; but
if not, and you also love her, and can be happy
in our solitary mode of life, stay with us-stay
forever. Marry Juana with my free consent. I
ask not for wealth. Mine is sufficient for you
both." The cornet protested that the honor
was one never contemplated by him-that it
was too great-thatBut of course, reader,
you know that " gammon " flourishes in Peru
amongst the silver mines as well as in some
more boreal lands that produce little better
than copper and tin. "Tin," however, has its
uses. The delighted sefiora overruled all objections, great and small; and she confirmed
Juana's notion, that the business of two worlds
could be transacted in an hour, by settling her
daughters future happiness in exactly twenty
minutes. The poor, weak Catalina, not acting
now in any spirit of recklessness, grieving sincerely for the gulf that was opening before her,
and yet shrinking effeminately from the momentary shock that would be inflicted by a
firm adherence to her duty, clinging to the
anodyne of a short delay, allowed herself to be
installed as the lover of Juana. Considerations
of convenience, however, postponed the marriage. It was requisite to make various purchases; and for this it was requisite to visit

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251

Tucuman, where also the marriage ceremony
could be performed with more circumstantial
splendor. To Tucuman, therefore, after some
weeks' interval, the whole party repaired; and
at Tucuman it was that the tragical events arose
which, whilst interrupting such a mockery forever, left the poor Juana still happily deceived,
and never believing for a moment that hers was
a rejected or a deluded heart.
One reporter of Mr. De Ferrer's narrative forgets his usual generosity when he says that the
sefiora's gift of her daughter to the alfirez was
not quite so disinterested as it seemed to be.
Certainly it was not so disinterested as European
ignorance might fancy it ; but it was quite as
much so as it ought to have been in balancing
the interests of a child. Very true it is, that,
being a genuine Spaniard, who was still a rare
creature in so vast a world as Peru, being a
Spartan amongst Helots, an Englishman
amongst savages, an alfdrez would in those
days have been a natural noble. His alliance
created honor for his wife and for his descendants. Something, therefore, the cornet would
add to the family consideration. But, instead
of selfishness, it argued just regard for her
daughter's interest to build upon this, as some
sort of equipoise to the wealth which her daughter would bring.

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Spaniard, however, as he was, our alfdrez, on
reaching Tucuman, found no Spaniards to mix
with, but, instead, twelve Portuguese.
Catalina remembered the Spanish proverb"Subtract from a Spaniard all his good qualities, and the remainder makes a pretty fair
Portuguese "';but, as there was nobody else to
gamble with, she entered freely into their
society. Very soon she suspected that there
was foul play : all modes of doctoring dice had
been made familiar to her by the experience of
camps. She watched; and, by the time she
had lost her final coin, she was satisfied that
she had been plundered. In her first anger she
would have been glad to switch the whole dozen
across the eyes; but, as twelve to one were too
great odds, she determined on limiting her vengeance to the immediate culprit. Him she followed into the street; and, coming near enough
to distinguish his profile reflected on a wall, she
continued to keep him in view from a short
distance. The light-hearted young cavalier
whistled, as he went, an old Portuguese ballad
of romance, and in a quarter of an hour came
up to a house, the front door of which he began
to open with a pass key. This operation was
the signal for Catalina that the hour of vengeance had struck; and, stepping hastily up,
she tapped the Portuguese on the shoulder,

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253

The
you are a robber!"
saying, "Sefior,
Portuguese turned coolly round, and, seeing
his gaming antagonist, replied, "Possibly, sir;
but I have no particular fancy for being told
so," at the same time drawing his sword.
Catalina had not designed to take any advantage; and the touching him on the shoulder, with the interchange of speeches, and the
known character of Kate, sufficiently imply it.
But it is too probable in such cases that the
party whose intention has been regularly settled
from the first, will and must have an advantage
unconsciously over the man so abruptly thrown
on his defence. However this might be, they
had not fought a minute before Catalina passed
her sword through her opponent's body; and,
without a groan or a sigh, the Portuguese
cavalier fell dead at his own door. Kate
searched the street with her ears and (as far as
the indistinctness of the nigLt allowed) with
her eyes. All was profoundly silent; and she
was satisfied that no human figure was in
motion. What should be done with the body?
A glance at the door of the house settled that.
Fernando had himself opened it at the very
moment when he received the summons to turn
round. She dragged the corpse in, therefore,
to the foot of the staircase, put the key by the
dead man's side, and then, issuing softly into

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the street, drew the door close with as little
noise as possible. Catalina again paused to
listen and to watch, went home to the hospitable sefiora's house, retired to bed, fell
asleep, and early the next morning was awakened by the corr6gidor and four alguazils.
The lawlessness of all that followed strikingly
exposes the frightful state of criminal justice at
that time wherever Spanish law prevailed. No
evidence appeared to connect Catalina in any
way with the death of Fernando Acosta. The
Portuguese gamblers, besides that, perhaps,
they thought lightly of such an accident, might
have reasons of their own for drawing off public
attention from their pursuits in Tucuman. Not
one of these men came forward openly; else the
circumstances at the gaming table, and the
departure of Catalina so closely on the heels of
her opponent, would have suggested reasonable
grounds for detaining her until some further
light should be obtained. As it was, her imprisonment rested upon no colorable ground
whatever, unless the magistrate had received
some anonymous information which, however,
he never alleged. One comfort there was,
meantime, in Spanish injustice-it did not
loiter. Full gallop it went over the ground.
One week often sufficed for informations, for
trial, for execution; and the only bad conse-

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255

quence was, that a second or a third week
sometimes exposed the disagreeable fact that
every thing had been " premature " ; a solemn
sacrifice had been made to offended justice, in
which all was right except as to the victim. It
was the wrong man; and that gave extra
trouble, for then all was to do over again,
another man to be executed, and, possibly, still
to be caught.
Justice moved at her usual Spanish rate in the
present case. Kate was obliged to rise instantly;
not suffered to speak to any body in the house;
though, in going out, a door opened, and she
saw the young Juana looking out with saddest
Indian expression. In one day the trial was all
finished. Catalina said (which was true) that
she hardly knew-Acosta, and that people of her
rank were used to attack their enemies face to
face, not by murderous surprises. The magistrates were impressed with Catalina's answers,
(yet answered to what ?) Things were beginning to look well, when all was suddenly upset
by two witnesses, whom the reader (who is a
sort of accomplice after the fact, having been
privately let into the truths of the case and
having concealed his knowledge) will know at
once to be false witnesses, but whom the old
Spanish buzwigs doted on as models of all that
could be looked for in the best. Both were very

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ill-looking fellows, as it was their duty to be.
And the first deposed as follows: " That,
through his quarter of Tucuman, the fact was
notorious of Acosta's wife being the object of a
criminal pursuit on the part of the alfdrez
(Catalina); that doubtless the injured husband
had surprised the prisoner, which of course had
led to the murder, to the staircase, to the keyto every thing, in short, that could be wished,-no-stop ! what am I saying ?-to every thing
that ought to be abominated. Finally,-for he
had now settled the main question,-that he
had a friend who would take up the case where
he himself, from shortsightedness, was obliged
to lay it down." This friend, the Pythias of
this shortsighted Damon, started up in a frenzy
of virtue at this summons, and, rushing to the
front of the alguazils: said, "That, since his
friend had proved sufficiently the fact of the
alfdrez having been lurking in the house and
having murdered a man, all that rested upon
him to show was, how that murderer got out of
the house, which he could do satisfactorily; for
there was a balcony running along the windows
on the second floor, one of which windows he
himself, lurking in a corner of the street, saw
the alfirez throw up, and, from the said balcony,
take a flying leap into said street." Evidence
like this was conclusive: no defence was lis-

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257

tened to; nor, indeed, had the prisoner any to
produce. The alf6rez could deny neither the
staircase nor the balcony ; the street is there to
this day, like the bricks in Jack Cade's chimney,
testifying all that may be required; and as to
our friend who saw the leap, there he was; nobody could deny him. The prisoner might
indeed have suggested that she never heard of
Acosta's wife, nor had the existence of such a
wife been ripened even into a suspicion. But
the bench were satisfied ; chopping logic was of
no use; and sentence was pronounced-that, on
the eighth day from the day of arrest, the alf6rez
should be executed in the public square.
It was not amongst the weaknesses of Catalina, who had so often inflicted death, and, by
her own journal, thought so lightly of inflicting
it (if not under cowardly advantages), to shrink
from facing death in her own person. Many
incidents in her career show the coolness and
even gayety with which, in any case where
death was apparently inevitable, she would have
gone to meet it. But in this case she had a
temptation for escaping it, which was probably
in her power. She had only to reveal the secret
of her sex, and the ridiculous witnesses, beyond
whose testimony there was nothing at all against
her, must at once be covered with derision.
Catalina had some liking for fun; and a main

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inducement to this course was, that it would
enable her to say to the judges, " Now you see
what old fools you 've made of yourselves;
every woman and child in Peru will soon be
laughing at you." I must acknowledge my
own weakness; this last temptation I could not
have withstood ; flesh is weak, and fun is strong.
But Catalina did. On consideration, she fancied
that, although the particular motive for murdering Acosta would be dismissed with laughter,
still this might not clear her of the murder,
which on some other motive she might have
committed. But, supposing that she were
cleared altogether, what most of all she feared
was, that the publication of her sex would
throw a reflex light upon many past transactions in her life, would instantly find its way to
Spain, and would probably soon bring her
within the tender attentions of the Inquisition.
She kept firm to the resolution of not saving her
life by this discovery, and, so far as her fate lay
in her own hands, she would (as the reader will
perceive from a little incident at the scaffold)
have perished to a certainty. But, even at this
point, how strange a case! A woman falsely
accused of an act which she really did commit,
and falsely accused of a true offence upon a
motive that was impossible!
As the sun set upon the seventh day, whet

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259

the hours were numbered for the prisoner, there
filed into her cell four persons in religious
habits. They came on the charitable mission
of preparing the poor convict for death. Catalina, however, watching all things narrowly,
remarked something earnest and significant in
the eye of the leader, as of one who had some
secret communication to make. She contrived
to clasp this man's hands, as if in the energy of
internal struggles ; and he contrived to slip into
hers the very smallest of billets from poor Juana.
It contained, for indeed it could contain, only
these three words : " Do not confess. J." This
one caution, so simple and so brief, was a talisman. It did not refer to any confession of the
crime,-that would have been assuming what
Juana was neither entitled nor disposed to assume,-but, in the technical sense of the church,
to the act of devotional confession. Catalina
found a single moment for a glance at it-understood the whole-resolutely refused to confess, as a person unsettled in her religious
opinions-that needed spiritual instructions;
and the four monks withdrew to make their
report. The principal judge, upon hearing of
the prisoner's impenitence, granted another
day. At the end of that, no change having
occurred either in the prisoner's mind or in the
circumstances, he issued his warrant for the

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execution. Accordingly, as the sun went down,
the sad procession formed within the prison.
Into the great square of Tucuman it moved,
where the scaffold had been built and the whole
city had assembled for the spectacle. Catalina
steadily ascended the ladder of the scaffold;
even then she resolved not to benefit by revealing her sex ; even then it was that she expressed
her scorn for the lubberly executioner's mode
of tying a knot; did it herself in a "''ship
shape,"
orthodox manner; received in return the enthusiastic plaudits of the crowd, and so far ran
the risk of precipitating her fate; for the timid
magistrates, fearing a rescue from the impetuous mob, angrily ordered the executioner to
finish the scene. The clatter of a galloping
horse, however, at this instant forced them to
pause. The crowd opened the road for the
agitated horseman, who was the bearer of an
order from the president of La Plata to suspend
the execution until two prisoners could be
examined. The whole was the work of the
sefiora and her daughter. The elder lady,
having gathered informations against the witnesses, had pursued them to La Plata. There,
by her influence with the governor, they were
arrested, recognized as old malefactors, and, in
their terror, had partly confessed their perjury.
Catalina was removed to La Plata, solemnly

be Sipanisb lun

261

acquitted, and, by the advice of the president,
for the present the connection with the sefiora's
family was postponed indefinitely.
Now was the last adventure approaching that
ever Catalina should see in the new world.
Some fine sights she may yet see in Europe,
but nothing after this (which she has recorded)
in America. Europe, if it had *ever heard of
her name (which very shortly it shall), kings,
pope, cardinals, if they were but aware of her
existence (which in six months they shall be),
would thirst for an introduction to our Catalina.
You hardly thought now, reader, that she was
such a great person, or any body's pet but yours
and mine. Bless you, sir, she would scorn to
look at us. I tell you, royalties are languishing
to see her, or soon will be. But how can this
come to pass if she is to continue in her present
obscurity ? Certainly it cannot without some
great peripellteia or vertiginous whirl of fortune; which, therefore, you shall now behold
taking place in one turn of her next adventure.
That shall let in a light, that shall throw back
a Claude Lorraine gleam over all the past, able
to make kings, that would have cared not for
her under Peruvian daylight, come to glorify
her setting beams.
The sefiora-and, observe, whatever kindness
she does to Catalina speaks secretly from two

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Run

hearts, her own and Juana's-had, by the advice
of Mr. President Mendonia, given sufficient
money for Catalina's travelling expenses. So
far well. But Mr. M. chose to add a little
codicil to this bequest of the sefiora's never
suggested by her or by her daughter. " Pray,"
said this inquisitive president, who surely might
have found business enough in La Plata,"pray, Sefior Pietro Diaz, did you ever live at
Concepcion ? and were you ever acquainted
there with Sefior Miguel de Erauso? That
man, sir, was my friend." What a pity that on
this occasion Catalina could not venture to be
candid ! What a capital speech it would have
made to say: "Friend were you? I think you
could hardly be that, with seven hundred miles
between you. But that man was my friend
also; and, secondly, my brother. True it is I
killed him; but, if you happen to know that
this was by pure mistake in the dark, what an
old rogue you must be to throw that in my
teeth, which is the affliction of my life!"
Again, however, as so often in the same circumstances, Catalina thought that it would
cause more ruin than it could heal to be candid; and, indeed, if she were really P. Diaz,
Esq., how came she to be brother to the late
Mr. Erauso? On consideration, also, if she
could not tell all, merely to have professed .

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263

fraternal connection which never was avowed
by either whilst living together, would not have
brightened the reputation of Catalina, which
too surely required a scouring. Still, from my
kindness for poor Kate, I feel uncharitably
towards the president for advising Sefior Pietro
" to travel for his health." What had he to do
with people's health ? However, Mr. Peter, as
he had pocketed the sefiora's money, thought it
right to pocket also the advice that accompanied
its payment. That he might be in a condition
to do so, he went off to buy a horse. He was in
luck to-day; for, beside money and advice, he
obtained, at a low rate, a horse both beautiful
and serviceable for a journey. To Paz it was, a
city of prosperous name, that the cornet first
moved. But Paz did not fulfil the promise of
its name ; for it laid the grounds of a feud that
drove our Kate out of America.
Her first adventure was a bagatelle, and fitter
for a jest book than a history ; yet it proved no
jest either, since it led to the tragedy that followed. Riding into Paz, our gallant standardbearer and her bonny black horse drew all
eyes, comme de raison, upon their separate
charms. This was inevitable amongst the indolent population of a Spanish town, and Kate
was used to it; but, having recently had a little
too much of the public attention, she felt

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nervous on remarking two soldiers eyeing the
handsome horse and the handsome rider with
an attention that seemed too solemn for mere
cstlhetics. However, Kate was not the kind of
person to let any thing dwell on her spirits,
especially if it took the shape of impudence;
and, whistling gayly, she was riding forward,
when who should cross her path but the alcalde!
Ah, alcalde, you see a person now that has a
mission against you, though quite unknown to
herself. He looked so sternly that Kate asked
if his worship had any commands. " These
men," said the alcalde, " these two soldiers, say
that this horse is stolen." To one who had so
narrowly and so lately escaped the balcony
witness and his friend, it was really no laughing matter to hear of new affidavits in preparation. Kate was nervous, but never disconcerted. In a moment she had twisted off a
saddle-cloth on which she sat, and throwing it
over the horse's head, so as to cover up all
between the ears and the mouth, she replied,
" that she had bought and paid for the horse at
La Plata. But now, your worship, if this horse
has really been stolen from these men, they must
know well of which eye it is blind; for it can
be only in the right eye or the left." One of
the soldiers cried out instantly that it was the
left eye; but the other said " No, no; you for-

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265

get; it 's the right." Kate maliciously called
attention to this little schism. But the men
said "Ah, that was nothing-they were hurried; but now on recollecting themselves, they
were agreed that it was the left eye." Did they
stand to that? "Oh, yes, positive they were;
left eye-left."
Upon which our Kate, twitching off the horsecloth, said gayly to the magistrate, " Now, sir,
please to observe that this horse has nothing
the matter with either eye." And in fact it was
so. Then his worship ordered his alguazils to
apprehend the two witnesses, who posted off to
bread and water, with other reversionary advantages, whilst Kate rode in quest of the best
dinner that Paz could furnish.
This alcalde's acquaintance, however, was not
destined to drop here. Something had appeared
in the young caballero'sbearing which made it
painful to have addressed him with harshness
or for a moment to have entertained such a
charge against such a person. He dispatched
his cousin, therefore, Don Antonio Calderon, to
offer his apologies, and at the same time to request that the stranger, whose rank and quality
he regretted not to have known, would do him
the honor to come and dine with him. This
explanation, and the fact that Don Antonio had
already proclaimed his own position as cousin

266

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to the magistrate and nephew to the Bishop of
Cuzco, obliged Catalina to say, after thanking
the gentlemen for their obliging attentions, " I
myself hold the rank of alfirez in the service
of his Catholic majesty. I am a native of Biscay; and I am now repairing to Cuzco on
private business."
"To Cuzco!" exclaimed
Don Antonio. "How very fortunate! My
cousin is a Basque like you; and, like you, he
starts for Cuzco to-morrow morning; so that,
if it is agreeable to you, Senor Alf6rez, we will
travel together." It was settled that they
should. To travel amongst "balcony witnesses" and anglers for "blind horses," not
merely with a just man, but with the very
abstract idea and riding allegory of justice,
was too delightful to the storm-wearied cornet;
and he cheerfully accompanied Don Antonio to
the house of the magistrate, called Don Pedro
de Chavarria. Distinguished was his reception.
The alcalde personally renewed his regrets for
the ridiculous scene of the two scampish oculists, and presented him to his wife, a splendid
Andalusian beauty, to whom he had been
married about a year.
This lady there is a reason for describing;
and the French reporter of Catalina's memoirs
dwells upon the theme. She united, he says,
the sweetness of the German lady with the

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267

energy of the Arabian-a combination hard to
judge of. As to her feet, he adds, I say nothing; for she had scarcely any at all. "Je ne
parlepoint de ses pieds, elle n'en availpresque
pas." "Poor lady!" says a compassionate
rustic : "no feet ! What a shocking thing that
so fine a woman should have been so sadly
mutilated! " 0 my dear rustic, you 're quite
in the wrong box. The Frenchman means this
as the very highest compliment. Beautiful,
however, she must have been, and a Cinderella, I hope, not a Cinderellula, considering
that she had the inimitable walk and step of
the Andalusians, which cannot be accomplished
without something of a proportionate basis to
stand upon.
The reason which there is (as I have said) for
describing this lady arises out of her relation to
the tragic events which followed. She, by her
criminal levity, was the cause of all; and I
must here warn the moralizing blunderer of
two errors that he is too likely to make : Ist.
That he is invited to read some extract from a
licentious amour as if for its own interest ; 2d.
Or on account of Donna Catalina's memoirs,
with a view to relieve their too martial character. I have the pleasure to assure him of his
being so utterly in the darkness of error that
any possible change he can make in his opin-

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ions, right or left, must be for the better: he
cannot stir but he will mend, which is a delightful thought for the moral and blundering mind.
As to the first point, what little glimpse he
obtains of a licentious amour is, as a court of
justice will sometimes show him such a glimpse,
simply to make intelligible the subsequent facts
which depend upon it. Secondly, as to the
conceit, that Catalina wished to embellish her
memoirs, understand that no such practice then
existed, certainly not in Spanish literature.
Her memoirs are electrifying by their facts;
else, in the manner of telling these facts, they
are systematically dry.
Don Antonio Calderon was a handsome, accomplished cavalier; and, in the course of
dinner, Catalina was led to judge, from the
behavior to each other of this gentleman and
the lady, the alcalde's beautiful wife, that they
This also
had an improper understanding.
she inferred from the furtive language of their
eyes. Her wonder was that the alcalde should
be so blind; though upon that point she saw
reason in a day or two to change her opinion.
Some people see every thing by affecting to see
nothing. The whole affair, however, was nothing at all to her; and she would have dismissed
it from her thoughts altogether but for what
happened on the journey.

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269

From the miserable roads, eight hours a day
of travelling was found quite enough for man
and beast, the product of which eight hours was
from ten to twelve leagues. On the last day but
one of the journey, the travelling party, which
was precisely the original dinner party, reached
a little town ten leagues short of Cuzco. The
corrigidor of this place was a friend of the
alcalde; and through his influence the party
obtained better accommodations than those
which they had usually had, in a hovel calling
itself a venta, or in the sheltered corner of a
barn. The alcalde was to sleep at the corrdgidor's house ; the two young cavaliers, Calderon
and our Kate, had sleeping rooms at the public
locanda;but for the lady was reserved a little
pleasure house in an enclosed garden. This was
a plaything of a house; but the season being
summer and the house surrounded with tropical
flowers, the lady preferred it (in spite of its
loneliness) to the damp mansion of the official
grandee, who, in her humble opinion, was
quite as fusty as his mansion, and his mansion
not much less so than himself.
After dining gayly together at the locanda,
and possibly taking a " rise " out of his worship
the corr6gidor, as a repeating echo of Don
Quixote (then growing popular in Spanish
America), the young man who was no young

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Zbe Spantib lRun

officer, and the young officer who was no young
man, lounged down together to the little pavilion in the flower garden, with the purpose of
paying their respects to the presiding belle.
They were graciously received, and had the
honor of meeting there his mustiness the alcalde
and his fustiness the corrdgidor, whose conversation was surely improving, but not equally
brilliant. How they got on under the weight of
two such muffs has been a mystery for two
centuries. But they did to a certainty ; for the
party did not break up till eleven. Tea and
turn out you could not call it; for there was the
turn out in rigor, but not the tea. One thing,
however, Catalina by mere accident had an
opportunity of observing, and observed with
pain. The two official gentlemen had gone
down the steps into the garden. Catalina,
having forgotten her hat, went back into the
little vestibule to look for it. There stood the
lady and Don Antonio, exchanging a few final
words (they were final) and a few final signs.
Amongst the last Kate observed distinctly this,
and distinctly she understood it. First drawing
Calderon's attention to the gesture, as one of
significant pantomime, by raising her forefinger,
the lady snuffed out one of the candles, The
young man answered it by a look of intelligence; and all three passed down the steps

Cbe Spanisb 1Run

271

together. The lady was disposed to take the
cool air, and accompanied them to the garden
gate; but, in passing down the walk, Catalina
noticed a second ill-omened sign that all was
not right. Two glaring eyes she distinguished
amongst the shrubs for a moment, and a rustling immediately after. " What 's that ? " said
the lady ; and Don Antonio answered carelessly,
"A bird flying out of the bushes."
Catalina, as usual, had read every thing; not
a wrinkle or a rustle was lost upon her; and,
therefore, when she reached the locanda, knowing to an iota all that was coming, she did not
retire to bed, but paced before the house. She
had not long to wait; in fifteen minutes the
door opened softly, and out stepped Calderon.
Kate walked forward and faced him immediately, telling him, laughingly, that it was not
good for his health to go abroad on this night.
The young man showed some impatience; upon
which, very seriously, Kate acquainted him with
her suspicions, and with the certainty that the
alcalde was not so blind as he had seemed.
Calderon thanked her for the information;
would be upon his guard; but, to prevent
further expostulation, he wheeled round instantly into the darkness. Catalina was too well
convinced, however, of the mischief on foot to
leave him thus. She followed rapidly, and

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passed silently into the garden almost at the
same time with Calderon. Both took their
stations behind trees-Calderon watching nothing but the burning candles, Catalina watching
circumstances to direct her movements. The
candles burned brightly in the little pavilion.
Presently one was extinguished. Upon this
Calderon pressed forward to the steps, hastily
ascended them, and passed into the vestibule.
Catalina followed on his traces. What succeeded was all one scene of continued, dreadful
dumb show; different passions of panic, or
deadly struggle or hellish malice absolutely
suffocated all articulate words.
In a moment a gurgling sound was heard, as
of a wild beast attempting vainly to yell over
some creature that it was strangling. Next
came a tumbling out at the door of one black
mass, which heaved and parted at intervals into
two figures, which closed, which parted again,
which at last fell down the steps together.
Then appeared a figure in white. It was the
unhappy Andalusian; and she, seeing the outline of Catalina's person, ran up to her, unable
to utter one syllable. Pitying the agony of her
horror, Catalina took her within her own cloak
and carried her out at the garden gate. Calderon had by this time died; and the maniacal
alcalde had risen up to pursue his wife. But

Ube Spantib lRun

273

Kate, foreseeing what he would do, had stepped
silently within the shadow of the garden wall.
Looking down the road to the town, and seeing
nobody moving, the maniac, for some purpose,
went back to the house. This moment Kate
used to recover the locanda with the lady still
panting in horror. What was to be done? To
think of concealment in this little place was out
of the question. The alcalde was a man of
local power; and it was certain that he would
kill his wife on the spot. Kate's generosity
would not allow her to have any collusion with
this murderous purpose. At Cuzco, the principal convent was ruled by a near relative of the
Andalusian; and there she would find shelter.
Kate, therefore, saddled her horse rapidly,
placed the lady behind, and rode off in the
darkness. About five miles out of the town
their road was crossed by a torrent, over which
they could not hit the bridge. " Forward ! "
cried the lady, and Kate repeating the word to
the horse, the docile creature leaped down into
the water. They were all sinking at first;
but, having its head free, the horse swam clear
of all obstacles through the midnight darkness
and scrambled out on the opposite bank. The
two riders were dripping from the shoulders
downward. But, seeing a light twinkling from
a cottage window, Kate rode up-obtained a

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Ube Spantib lRun

little refreshment and the benefit of a fire from
a poor laboring man. From this man she also
bought a warm mantle for the lady, who, besides her torrent bath, was dressed in a light
evening robe; so that, but for the horseman's
cloak of Kate, she would have perished. But
there was no time to lose. They had already
lost two hours from the consequences of their
cold bath. Cuzco was still eighteen miles distant; and the alcalde's shrewdness would at
once divine this to be his wife's mark. They
remounted; very soon the silent night echoed
the hoofs of a pursuing rider: and now commenced the most frantic race, in which each
party rode as if the whole game of life were
staked upon the issue. The pace was killing;
and Kate has delivered it as her opinion, in the
memoirs which she wrote, that the alcalde was
the better mounted. This may be doubted;
and certainly Kate had ridden too many years
in the Spanish cavalry to have any fear of his
worship's horsemanship; but it was a prodigious disadvantage that her horse had to
carry double; while the horse ridden by her
opponent was one of those belonging to the
murdered Don Antonio, and known to Kate as
a powerful animal. At length they had come
within three miles of Cuzco. The road after
this descended the whole way to the city, and

Cbe !Spanisb lrun

275

in some places rapidly, so as to require a cool
rider. Suddenly a deep trench appeared, traversing the whole extent of a broad heath. It
was useless to evade it. To have hesitated was
to be lost. Kate saw the necessity of clearing
it, but doubted much whether her poor exhausted horse, after twenty-one miles of work
so severe, had strength for the effort. Kate's
maxim, however, which never yet had failed,
both figuratively for life and literally for the
saddle, was, to ride at every thing that showed
a front of resistance. She did so now. Having
come upon the trench rather too suddenly, she
wheeled round for the advantage of coming
down upon it more determinately, rode resolutely at it, and gained the opposite bank. The
hind feet of her horse were sinking back from
the rottenness of the ground; but the strong
supporting bridle hand of Kate carried him forward; and in ten minutes more they would be
in Cuzco. This being seen by the vicious alcalde, who had built great hopes on the trench,
he unslung his carbine, pulled up, and fired
after the bonny black horse and its bonny fair
riders. But this manoeuvre would have lost his
worship any bet that he might have had depending on this admirable steeple-chase. Had
I been stakeholder, what a pleasure it would
have been, in fifteen minutes from this very

276

Ube SBpantsb IRun

vicious shot, to pay into Kate's hands every
shilling of the deposits! I would have listened
to no nonsense about referees or protests. The
bullets, says Kate, whistled round the poor
clinging lady en croupe. Luckily none struck
her; but one wounded the horse; and that settled the odds. Kate now planted herself well
in her stirrups to enter Cuzco, almost dangerously a winner, for the horse was so maddened
by the wound, and the road so steep, that he
went like blazes; and it really became difficult
for Kate to guide him with any precision
through narrow episcopal ' paths. Henceforwards the wounded horse required Kate's continued attention; and yet, in the mere luxury
of strife, it was impossible for Kate to avoid
turning a little in her saddle to see the alcalde's
performance on this tight rope of the trench.
His worship's horsemanship being perhaps
rather rusty, and he not perfectly acquainted
with his horse, it would have been agreeable to
compromise the case by riding round or dismounting. But all that was impossible; the
job must be done; and I am happy to report,
for the reader's satisfaction, the sequel, so far
as Kate could attend the performance. Gathering himself up for mischief, the alcalde took a
sweep, as if ploughing out the line of some vast
encampment or tracing the pomerium for some

Ube Spanib Run

277

future Rome; then, like thunder and lightning,
with arms flying aloft in the air, down he came
upon the trembling trench. But the horse refused the leap; and, as the only compromise
that his unlearned brain could suggest, he
threw his worship right over his ears, lodging
him safely in a sand heap that rose with clouds
of dust and screams of birds into the morning
air. Kate had now no time to send back her
compliments in a musical halloo. The alcalde
missed breaking his neck on this occasion very
narrowly; but his neck was of no use to him in
twenty minutes more, as the reader will soon
find. Kate rode right onwards; and, coming
in with a lady behind her, horse bloody, and
pace such as no hounds could have lived with,
she ought to have made a great sensation in Cuzco. But, unhappily, the people were all in bed.
The steeple-chase into Cuzco had been a fine
headlong thing, considering the torrent, the
trench, the wounded horse, the lovely lady,
with her agonizing fears, mounted behind Kate,
together with the meek, dovelike dawn; but
the finale crowded together the quickest succession of changes that out of a melodrama can
ever have been witnessed. Kate reached the
convent in safety; carried into the cloisters,
and delivered like a parcel, the fair Andalusian.
But to rouse the servants caused delay ; and, on

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returning to the street through the broad gateway of the convent, whom should she face but
the alcalde! How he escaped the trench, who
can tell? He had no time to write memoirs;
his horse was too illiterate ; but he had escaped,
temper not at all improved by that adventure,
and now raised to a hell of malignity by seeing
that he had lost his prey. In the morning light
he now saw how to use his sword. He attacked
Kate with fury. Both were exhausted; and
Kate, besides that she had no personal quarrel
with the alcalde, having now accomplished her
sole object in saving the lady, would have been
glad of a truce. She could with difficulty wield
her sword; and the alcalde had so far the advantage that he wounded Kate severely. That
roused her ancient blood. She turned on him
now with determination. At that moment in
rode two servants of the alcalde, who took part
with their master. These odds strengthened
Kate's resolution, but weakened her chances.
Just then, however, rode in, and ranged himself on Kate's side, the servant of the murdered
Don Calderon. In an instant Kate had pushed
her sword through the alcalde, who died upon
the spot; in an instant the servant of Calderon
had fled; in an instant the alguazils had come
up. They and the servants of the alcalde
pressed furiously on Kate, who now again was

Ebe Spanteb 'IRun

279

fighting for life. Against such odds, she was
rapidly losing ground; when in an instant, on
the opposite side of the street, the great gates
of the episcopal palace rolled open. Thither it
was that Calderon's servant had fled. The
bishop and his attendants hurried across.
"Senor Caballador," said the bishop, " in the
name of the Virgin, I enjoin you to surrender
your sword." " My lord," said Kate, " I dare
not do it with so many enemies about me."
" But I," replied the bishop, " become answerable to the law for your safekeeping." Upon
which, with filial reverence, all parties dropped
their swords. Kate being severely wounded,
the bishop led her into his palace. In an instant came the catastrophe. Kate's discovery
could no longer be delayed; the blood flowed
too rapidly; the wound was in her bosom. She
requested a private interview with the bishop.
All was known in a moment; for surgeons and
attendants were summoned hastily, and Kate
fainted. The good bishop pitied her and had
her attended in his palace; then removed to a
convent; then to a second at Lima; and, after
many months had passed, his report to the
Spanish government at home of all the particulars drew from the King of Spain and from the
pope an order that the nun should be transferred to Spain.

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Ube Spantab 1Iun

Yes, at length the warrior lady, the blooming
cornet, this nun that is so martial, this dragoon
that is so lovely, must visit again the home of
her childhood, which now for seventeen years
she has not seen. All Spain, Portugal, Italy,
rang with her adventures. Spain, from north
to south, was frantic with desire to behold her
fiery child, whose girlish romance, whose patriotic heroism, electrified the national imagination. The King of Spain must kiss his faithful
daughter, that would not suffer his banner to
see dishonor. The pope must kiss his wandering daughter, that henceforwards will be a
lamb travelling back into the Christian fold.
Potentates so great as these, when they speak
words of love, do not speak in vain. All was
forgiven-the sacrilege, the bloodshed, the
flight, and the scorn of St. Peter's keys. The
pardons were made out, were signed, were
sealed; and the chanceries of earth were satisfied.
Ah, what a day of sorrow and of joy was that
one day, in the first week of November, 1624,
when the returning Kate drew near to the shore
of Andalusia; when, descending into the ship's
barge, she was rowed to the piers of Cadiz by
bargemen in the royal liveries; when she saw
every ship, street, house, convent, church,
crowded, like a day of judgment, with human

Cbe 5panizb

un2

281

faces,--with men, with women, with children,
-all bending the lights of their flashing and
their loving eyes upon herself! Forty myriads
of people had gathered in Cadiz alone. All
Andalusia had turned out to receive her. Ah,
what joy, if she had not looked back to the
Andes, to their dreadful summits, and their
more dreadful feet! Ah, what sorrow, if she
had not been forced, by music, and endless
banners, and triumphant clamors, to turn away
from the Andes to the joyous shore which she
approached!
Upon this shore stood, ready to receive her,
in front of all this mighty crowd, the prime
minister of Spain, the same Conde Olivarez who
but one year before had been so haughty and so
defying to our haughty and defying Duke of
Buckingham. But a year ago the Prince of
Wales was in Spain; and he also was welcomed
with triumph and great joy, but not with the
hundredth part of that enthusiasm which now
met the returning nun; and Olivarez, that had
spoken so roughly to the English duke, to her
"was sweet as summer." 19 Through endless
crowds of festive compatriots he conducted her
to the king. The king folded her in his arms
and could never be satisfied with listening to
her. He sent for her continually to his presence;
he delighted in her conversation, so new, so

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pantsb 1Run

natural, so spirited; he settled a pension upon
her at that time, of unprecedented amount in
the case of a subaltern officer; and by his desire,
because the year 1625 was a year of jubilee, she
departed in a few months from Madrid to Rome.
She went through Barcelona, there and everywhere welcomed as the lady whom the king
delighted to honor. She travelled to Rome;
and all doors flew open to receive her. She
was presented to His Holiness, with letters from
his most Catholic Majesty. But letters there
needed none. The pope admired her as much
as all before had done. He caused her to recite
all her adventures; and what he loved most in
her account was the sincere and sorrowing spirit
in which she described herself as neither better
nor worse than she had been. Neither proud
was Kate, nor sycophantishly and falsely humble. Urban VIII. it was that then filled the
chair of St. Peter. He did not neglect to raise
his daughter's thoughts from earthly things;
he pointed her eyes to the clouds that were
above the dome of St. Peter's Cathedral; he
told her what the cathedral had told her in the
gorgeous clouds of the Andes and the vesper
lights, how sweet a thing, how divine a thing
it was, for Christ's sake, to forgive all injuries,
and how he trusted that no more she would
think of bloodshed. He also said two words to

be

panib

un

283

her in Latin, which, if I had time to repeat a
Spanish bishop's remark to Kate some time
afterwards upon those two mysterious words,
with Kate's most natural and ingenuous answer
to the bishop upon what she supposed to be
their meaning, would make the reader smile
not less than they made myself. You know
that Kate did understand a little Latin, which
probably had not been much improved by riding
in the Light Dragoons. I must find time, however, whether the press and the compositors are
in a fury or not, to mention that the pope, in
his farewell audience to his dear daughter,
whom he was to see no more, gave her a general licence to wear henceforth in all countries,
even in partibus infidelium, a cavalry officer's
dress-boots, spurs, sabre, and sabre tache; in
fact, any thing that she and the Horse Guards
might agree upon. Consequently, reader, remember for your life never to say one word,
nor suffer any tailor to say one word, against
those Wellington trousers made in the chestnut
forest; for, understand that the papal indulgence, as to this point, runs backwards as well
as forwards; it is equally shocking and heretical
to murmur against trousers in the forgotten
rear or against trousers yet to come.
From Rome, Kate returned to Spain. She
even went to St. Sebastian's, to the city, but-

284

Cbe Opant

b l~tutn

whether it was that her heart failed her or not
-never to the convent. She roamed up and
down; everywhere she was welcome, everywhere an honored guest, but everywhere restless. The poor and humble never ceased from
their admiration of her; and amongst the rich
and aristocratic of Spain, with the king at their
head, Kate found especial love from two classes
of men. The cardinals and bishops all doted
upon her, as their daughter that was returning.
The military men all doted upon her, as their
sister that was retiring.
Some time or other, when I am allowed more
elbow room, I will tell you why it is that I myself love this Kate. Now, at this moment, when
it is necessary for me to close, if I allow you
one question before laying down my pen,-if I
say, " Come, now, be quick; ask me any thing
you have to ask; for in one minute I am going
to write Finis, after which (unless the queen
wished it) I could not add a syllable,"-twenty
to one, I guess what your question will be.
You will ask me, What became of Kate ? What
was her end ?
Ah, reader! but, if I answer that question,
you will say I have not answered it. If I tell
you that secret, you will say that the secret is
still hidden. Yet, because I have promised,
and because you will be angry if I do not, let

tbe Opanteb Iun

285
28

me do my best; and bad is the best. After ten
years of restlessness in Spain, with thoughts
always turning back to the Andes, Kate heard
of an expedition on the point of sailing to
Spanish America. All soldiers knew her, so
that she had information of every thing that
stirred in camps. Men of the highest military
rank were going out with the expedition ; but
they all loved Kate as a sister, and were delighted to hear that she would join their mess
on board ship. This ship, with others, sailed,
whither finally bound I really forget; but, on
reaching America, all the expedition touched
at Vera Cruz. Thither a great crowd of the
military went on shore; the leading officers
made a separate party for the same purpose.
Their intention was to have a gay, happy dinner, after their long confinement to a ship, at
the chief hotel; and happy in perfection it
could not be unless Kate would consent to join
it. She, that was ever kind to brother soldiers,
agreed to do so. She descended into the boat
along with them, and in twenty minutes the
boat touched the shore. All the bevy of gay,
laughing officers, junior and senior, like schoolboys escaping from school, jumped on shore,
and walked hastily, as their time was limited,
up to the hotel. Arriving there, all turned
round in eagerness, saying, " Where is our dear

286

Cbe !panisb 1ifun

Kate? " Ah, yes, my dear Kate, at that solemni
I
moment, where, indeed, were you ? She blad1
certainly taken her seat in the boat-that wsi
sure. Nobody, in the general confusion, was
certain of having seen her on coming ashore.
i
The sea was searched for her-the forests were
ransacked. The sea made no answer-the for
ests gave up no sign. I have a conjecture of'
my own; but her brother soldiers were lost inI
sorrow and confusion, and could never arrive
even at a conjecture.
That happened two hundred and fourteen
years ago. Here is the brief sum of all: This
nun sailed from Spain to Peru; and she found
no rest for the sole of her foot. This nun sailed
back from Peru to Spain; and she found no
rest for the agitations of her heart. This nun
sailed again from Spain to America; and she
found-the rest which all of us find. But where
it was could never be made known to the father
of Spanish camps that sat in Madrid, nor to
Kate's spiritual father that sat in Rome.
Known it is to the great Father that once
whispered to Kate on the Andes; but else it
has been a secret for two centuries; and to man
20
it remains a secret forever and ever.

NOTES.

NOTE I.

Page 6.

Kant-who carried his demands of unconditional veracity to so extravagant a length as to affirm, that, if a
man were to see an innocent person escape from a
murderer, it would be his duty, on being questioned by
the murderer, to tell the truth, and to point out the
retreat of the innocent person, under any certainty of
causing murder. Lest this doctrine should be supposed
to have escaped him in any heat of dispute, on being
taxed with it by a celebrated French writer, he solemnly
reaffirmed it, with his reasons.
NOTE 2.

Page 12.

The passage occurs in the second part (act 3) of" Henry
VI.," and is doubly remarkable-first, for its critical
fidelity to nature, were the description meant only for
foetic effect; but, secondly, for the judicial value impressed upon it when offered (as here it is offered) in
silent corroboration legally of a dreadful whisper all at
once arising, that foul play had been dealing with a
great prince, clothed with an official state character. It
is the Duke of Gloucester, faithful guardian and loving
uncle of the simple and imbecile king, who has been
found dead in his bed. How shall this event be interpreted? Had he died under some natural visitation of
Providence, or by violence from his enemies ? The two

288

Votes

court factions read the circumstantial indications of the
case into opposite constructions. The affectionate and
afflicted young king, whose position almost pledges him
to neutrality, cannot, nevertheless, disguise his overwhelming suspicions of hellish conspiracy in the background. Upon this, a leader of the queen's faction endeavors to break the force of this royal frankness,
countersigned and echoed most impressively by Lord
Warwick. "What instance," he asks - meaning by
instance not example or illustration, as thoughtless commentators have constantly supposed, but in the common
scholastic sense-what instantia, what pressure of argument, what urgent plea, can Lord Warwick put forward
in support ofhis "dreadful oath "--an oath, namely, that,
as surely as he hopes for the life eternal, so surely
"I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke."
Ostensibly the challenge is to Warwick, but substantially
it is meant for the king. And the reply of Warwick,
the argument on which he builds, lies in a solemn array
of all the changes worked in the duke's features by
death, as irreconcilable with any other hypothesis than
that this death had been a violent one. What argument
have I that Gloucester died under the hands of murderers? Why, the following roll-call of awful changes,
affecting head, face, nostrils, eyes, hands, etc., which do
not belong indifferently to any mode of death, but exclusively to a death by violence :" But see, his face is black and full of blood;
His eyeballs farther out than when he lived,
Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man ;
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued.

1 oteo

289

Look on the sheets:-his hair, you see, is sticking;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable."
As the logic of the case, let us not for a moment forget,
that, to be of any value, the signs and indications
pleaded must be sternly diagnostic. The discrimination
sought for is between death that is natural, and death
that is violent. All indications, therefore, that belong
equally and indifferently to either, are equivocal, useless,
and alien from the very purpose of the signs here registered by Shakespeare.
NOTE 3.

Page 13.

At the time of writing this, I held the common opinion
upon that subject. Mere inconsideration it was that led
to so erroneous a judgment. Since then, on closer reflection, I have seen ample reason to retract it : satisfied
I now am, that the Romans, in every art which allowed
to them any parity of advantages, had merits as racy,
native, and characteristic, as the best of the Greeks.
E]lsewhere I shall plead this cause circumstantially, with
the hope of converting the reader. In the meantime, I
was anxious to lodge my protest against this ancient
error; an error which commenced in the time-serving
sycophancy of Virgil, the court-poet. With the base
purpose of gratifying Augustus in his vindictive spite
against Cicero, and by way of introducing, therefore, the
little clause orabunt Causas melius as applying to all
Athenian against all Roman orators, Virgil did not
scruple to sacrifice by wholesale the just pretensions of
his compatriots collectively.
NOTE 4. Page 21.
This same argument has been employed at least once
too often. Some centuries back a dauphin of France,

290

ltoteo

when admonished of his risk from small-pox, made the
same demand as the emperor-" Had any gentleman
heard of a dauphin killed by small-pox? " No; not any
gentleman had heard of such a case. And yet, for all
that, this dauphin died of that same small-pox.
NOTE 5.

Page 22.

"June I, 1675.-Drinke part of three boules of punch
(a liquor very strainge to me)," says the Rev. Mr. Henry
Teonge, in his Diary published by C. Knight. In a note
on this passage, a reference is made to Fryer's Travels
to the East Indies, 1672, who speaks of " that enervating
liquor called paunch (which is Hindostanee for five),
from five ingredients." Made thus, it seems the medical men called it diapente ; if with four only, diatessaron.
No doubt, it was this evangelical name that recommended it to the Rev. Mr. Teonge.
NOTE 6.

Page 27.

Chatsworth was then, as now, the superb seat of the
Cavendishes in their highest branch-in those days
Earl, at present Duke, of Devonshire. It is to the honor
of this family that, through two generations, they gave
an asylum to Hobbes. It is noticeable that Hobbes was
born in the year of the Spanish Armada, i. e., in 1588:
such, at least, is my belief. And, therefore, at this meeting with Tennison in 1670, he must have been about 82
years old.
NOTE 7.
Page 31.
"Spital Sermons " :-Dr. Parr's chief public appearances as an author, after his original appearance in the
famous Latin preface to Bellendinus (don't say BellendZnus), occurred in certain Sermons at periodic intervals,
delivered on behalf of some hospital (I really forget
what) which retained for its official designation the old
word Spital; and thus it happened that the Sermons
themselves were generally known by the title of Spital
Sermons.

1Rotc~

291

NOTE 8. Page 50.
But
Abraham Newland is now utterly forgotten.
when this was written, his name had not ceased to ring
in British ears, as the most familiar and most significant
that perhaps has ever existed. It was the name which
appeared on the face of all Bank of England notes, great
or small; and had been, for more than a quarter of a
century (especially through the whole career of the
French Revolution), a short-hand expression for paper
money in its safest form.

NOTE 9.

Page 56.

Her Majesty :-In the lecture, having occasion to refer
to the reigning sovereign, I said " His Majesty " ; for at
that time William IV. was on the throne : but between
the lecture and this supplement had occurred the accession of our present Queen.
NOTE I0.

Page 70.

"Page one thousand four hundred and thirty-one" :literally,good reader, and no joke at all.
NOTE II.

Page 78.

The paper on "Murder as one of the Fine Arts"
seemed to exact from me some account of Williams, the
dreadful London murderer of the last generation; not
only because the amateurs had so much insisted on his
merit as the supreme of artists for grandeur of design
and breadth of style; and because, apart from this momentary connection with my paper, the man himself
merited a record for his matchless audacity, combined
with so much of snaky subtlety, and even insinuating amiableness in his demeanor-but also because,
apart from the man himself, the works of the man
(those two of them especially which so profoundly impressed the nation in 1812) were in themselves, for dramatic effect, the most impressive on record: Southey

292

1ROtes

pronounced their preEminence, when he said to me,
that they ranked amongst the few domestic events
which, by the depth and the expansion of horror attending them, had risen to the dignity of a national
interest. I may add, that this interest benefited also by
the mystery which invested the murders; mystery as to
various points, but especially as respected one important
question, Had the murderer any accomplice? * There
was, therefore, reason enough, both in the man's hellish
character, and in the mystery which surrounded him,
for this Postscript to the original paper; since, in a
lapse of forty-two years, both the man and his deeds had

faded away from the knowledge of the present generation; but still I am sensible that my record is far too

diffuse.

Feeling this at the very time of writing, I was

yet unable to correct it; so little self-control was I able

to exercise under the afflicting agitations, and the unconquerable impatience of my nervous malady.
NOTE 12.

Page

20I.

".She looked," etc.-If ever the reader should visit
Aix-la-Chapelle, he will probably feel interest enough
in the poor, wild, impassioned girl to look out for a
picture of her in that city, and the only one known
certainly to be authentic. It is in the collection of Mr.
Sempeller. For some time it was supposed that the
* Upon a large overbalance of probabilities, it was,
however, definitively agreed amongst amateurs that
Williams must have been alone in these atrocities.
Meantime, amongst the colorable presumptions on the
other side, was this : Some hours after the last murder,
a man was apprehended at Barnet (the first stage from
London on a principal north road), encumbered with a
quantity of plate. How he came by it, or whither he
was going, he steadfastly refused to say. In the daily
journals, which he was allowed to see, he read with
eagerness the police examinations of Williams; and on
the same day which announced the catastrophe of Williams, he also committed suicide in his cell.

1Rote

293

best (if not the only) portrait of her lurked somewhere
in Italy. Since the discovery of the picture at Aix-laChappelle, that notion has been abandoned; but there is
great reason to believe that, both in Madrid and Rome,
many portraits of her must have been painted to meet
the intense interest which arose in her history subsequently amongst all the men of rank, military or ecclesiastical, whether in Italy or Spain. The date of these
would range between sixteen and twenty-two years from
the period which we have now reached (16o8).
NOTE 13.

Page 215.

"Alflrez" :-This rank in the Spanish army is, or
was, on a level with the modern sous-lieutenantof France.
NOTE 14.

Page 225.

The beautiful words of Sir Philip Sidney, in his " Defence of Poesie.''
NOTE IS.

Page 243.

Though not exactly in the same circumstances as
Kate, or sleeping, a la belle eloile, on a declivity of the
Andes, I have known (or heard circumstantially reported)
the cases of many ladies besides Kate who were in precisely the same critical danger of perishing for want of
a little brandy. A dessertspoonful or two would have
saved them. Avaunt, you wicked " temperance " medallist ! Repent as fast as ever you can, or perhaps, the
next time we hear of you, anasarcaand hydrothoraxwill
be running after you to punish your shocking excesses
in water. Seriously, the case is one of constant recurrence, and constantly ending fatally from unseasonable
and pedantic rigor of temperance. The fact is, that the
medical profession composes the most generous and
liberal body of men amongst us; taken generally, by
much the most enlightened; but, professionally, the
most timid. Want of boldness in the administration of

294

Iotes

opium, etc., though they can be bold enough with mercury, is their besetting infirmity; and from this infirmity females suffer most. One instance I need hardly
mention, the fatal case of an august lady, mourned by
nations, with respect to whom it was and is the belief
of multitudes to this hour (well able to judge) that she
would have been saved by a glass of brandy; and her
attendant, who shot himself, came to think so too late-too late for her,and too late for himself. Amongst many
cases of the same nature which personally I have been
acquainted with, twenty years ago, a man, illustrious
for his intellectual accomplishments,* mentioned to me
that his own wife, during her first or second confinement, was suddenly reported to him, by one of her
female attendants (who slipped away unobserved by the
medical people), as undoubtedly sinking fast. He hurried to her chamber, and saw that it was so. The
presiding medical authority, however, was inexorable.
"0, by no means," shaking his ambrosial wig; "any
stimulant at this crisis would be fatal." But no authority could overrule the concurrent testimony of all symptoms and of all unprofessional opinions. By some pious
falsehood, my friend smuggled the doctor out of the
room, and immediately smuggled a glass of brandy into
the poor lady's lips. She recovered with magical power.
The doctor is now dead, and went to his grave under
the delusive persuasion that not any vile glass of brandy,
but the stern refusal of all brandy, was the thing that
saved his collapsing patient. The patient herself, who
might naturally know something of the matter, was of a
different opinion. She sided with the factious body
around her bed (comprehending all beside the doctor),
who felt sure that death was rapidly approaching, barring that brandy. The same result in the same appalling crisis I have known repeatedly produced by twenty* Robert Southey,

1Roteo

295

five drops of laudanum. An obstinate man will say, " 0,
never listen to a non-medical man like this writer. Consult, in such a case, your medical adviser." You will,
will you ? Then let me tell you that you are missing the
very logic of all I have been saying for the improvement
of blockheads; which is, that you should consult any
man but a medical man, since no other man has any obstinate prejudice of professional timidity. N. B.-I
prescribe for Kate gratis,because she, poor thing ! has
so little to give; but from other ladies, who may have
the happiness to benefit by my advice, I expect a fee,not so large a one, considering the service,-a flowering
plant, suppose the second best in their collection. I
know it would be of no use to ask for the very best
(which else I could wish to do), because that would only
be leading them into little fibs. I don't insist on a Yucca
gloriosa,or a Magnoliaspeciosissima (I hope there is such
a plant); a rose or a violet will do. I am sure there is
such a plant as that; and, if they settle their debts
justly, I shall very soon be master of the prettiest little
conservatory in England. For, treat it not as a jest,
reader; no case of timid practice is so fatally frequent.
NOTE 16. Page 246.
"Creole" :-At that time the infusion of negro, or
African, blood was small; consequently none of the
negro hideousness was diffused. After these intercomplexities had arisen between all complications of descent
from three original strands,--European, American, African,-the distinctions of social consideration founded on
them bred names so many that a court calendar was
necessary to keep you from blundering. As yet, the
varieties were few. Meantime the word creole has always
been misapplied in our English colonies to a person
(though of strictly European blood) simply because born
in the West Indies. In this English use it expresses the

296

1Rotes

same difference as the Romans indicated by Hispanus
and Hispanicus. The first meant a person of Spanish
blood, a native of Spain ; the second, a Roman, born in
Spain. So of Germanus and Germanicus, Italus and
Italicus, Anglus and Anglicus, etc.; an important distinction, on which see Casaubon apud Scriflores; Hist.
A ugustan.
NOTE 17.

Page 247.

It is well known that the very reason why the Spanish
of all nations became the most gloomily jealous of a
Jewish cross in the pedigree was, because, until the
vigilance of the church rose into ferocity, in no nation
was such a cross so common. The hatred of fear is ever
the deepest; and men hated the Jewish taint, as once
in Jerusalem they hated the leprosy, because, even
whilst they raved against it, the secret proofs of it
might be detected amongst their own kindred; even as
in the temple, whilst once a king rose in mutiny against
the priesthood (2 Chron. xxvi., 16-20), suddenly the
leprosy that dethroned him blazed out upon his forehead.
NOTE 18. Page 276.
" Efiscopal" :-The roads around Cuzco were made,
and maintained, under the patronage and control of the
bishop.
NOTE 19.

Page 281.

Griffith, in Shakespeare, when vindicating, in that
immortal scene with Queen Katherine, Cardinal Wolsey.
NOTE 20.

Page 286.

There are some narratives, which, though pure fictions from first to last, counterfeit so vividly the air of
grave realities, that, if deliberately offered for such, they
would for a time impose upon everybody. In the opposite scale there are other narratives, which, whilst

1Rotee

297

rigorously true, move amongst characters and scenes so
remote from our ordinary experience, and through a
state of society so favorable to an adventurous cast of
incidents, that they would everywhere pass for romances,
if severed from the documents which attest their fidelity
to facts. In the former class stand the admirable novels
of Defoe; and, on a lower range within the same category, the inimitable "Vicar of Wakefield ;" upon which
last novel, without at all designing it, I once became the
author of the following instructive experiment. I had
given a copy of this little novel to a beautiful girl of
seventeen, the daughter of a statesman in Westmoreland, not designing any deception (nor so much as any
concealment) with respect to the fictitious character of
the incidents and of the actors in that famous tale.
Mere accident it was that had intercepted those explanations as to the extent of the fiction in these points, which
in this case it would have been so natural to make.
Indeed, considering the exquisite verisimilitude of the
work meeting with' such absolute inexperience in the
reader, it was almost a duty to have made them. This
duty, however, something had caused me to forget; and
when next I saw the young mountaineer, I forgot that I
had forgotten it. Consequently, at first I was perplexed
by the unfaltering gravity with which my fair young
friend spoke of Dr. Primrose, of Sophia and her sister,
of Squire Thornhill, etc., as real and probably living
personages, who could sue and be sued. It appeared
that this artless young rustic, who had never heard of
novels and romances as a bare possibility amongst all
the shameless devices of London swindlers, had read
with religious fidelity every word of this tale, so thoroughly life-like, surrendering her perfect faith and her
loving sympathy to the different persons in the tale and
the natural distresses in which they are involved, without suspecting for a moment that, by so much as a

298

Rotes

breathing of exaggeration or of embellishment, the pure
gospel truth of the narrative could have been sullied.
She listened in a kind of breathless stupor to my frank
explanation-that not part only, but the whole of this
natural tale was a pure invention. Scorn and indignation flashed from her eyes. She regarded herself as
one who had been hoaxed and swindled; begged me to
take back the book; and never again, to the end of her
life, could endure to look into the book, or to be reminded of that criminal imposture which Dr. Oliver
Goldsmith had practised upon her youthful credulity.
In that case a book altogether fabulous, and not meaning to offer itself for any thing else, had been read as
genuine history. Here, on the other hand, the adventures of the Spanish Nun, which, in every detail of time
and place have since been sifted and authenticated,
stood a good chance at one period of being classed as the
most lawless of romances. It is, indeed, undeniableand this arises as a natural result from the bold adventurous character of the heroine, and from the unsettled
state of society at that period in Spanish America-that
a reader, the most credulous, would at times be startled
with doubts upon what seemed so unvarying a tenor of
danger and lawless violence. But, on the other hand, it
is also undeniable that a reader, the most obstinately
skeptical, would be equally startled in the very opposite
direction, on remarking that the incidents are far from
being such as a romance writer would have been likely
to invent; since, if striking, tragic, and even appalling,
they are at times repulsive. And it seems evident, that,
once putting himself to the cost of a wholesale fiction,
the writer would have used his privilege more freely
for his own advantage. Whereas the author of these
memoirs clearly writes under the coercion and restraint
of a notorious reality, that would not suffer him to ignore
or to modify the leading facts. Then, as to the objection

MIotes

299

that few people or none have an experience presenting
such uniformity of perilous adventure, a little closer
attention shows that the experience in this case is not
uniform; and so far otherwise, that a period of several
years in Kate's South American life is confessedly suppressed; and on no other ground whatever, than that
this long parenthesis is not adventurous, not essentially
differing from the monotonous character of ordinary
Spanish life.
Suppose the case, therefore, that Kate's memoirs had
been thrown upon the world with no vouchers for their
authenticity beyond such internal presumptions as
would have occurred to thoughtful readers, when reviewing the entire succession of incidents, I am of opinion that the person best qualified by legal experience to
judge of evidence would finally have pronounced a
favorable award; since it is easy to understand that in a
world so vast as the Peru, the Mexico, the Chili, of
Spaniards during the first quarter of the seventeenth
century, and under the slender modification of Indian
manners as yet effected by the papal Christianization of
these countries, and in the neighborhood of a riversystem so awful--of a mountain-system so unheard-of in
Europe, there would probably, by blind, unconscious
sympathy, grow up a tendency to lawless and gigantesque ideals of adventurous life; under which, united
with the duelling code of Europe, many things would
become trivial and commonplace experiences that to us
home-bred English (" qui musas colimus severiores") seem
monstrous and revolting.
Ieft, therefore, to itself, my belief is, that the story of
the Military Nun would have prevailed finally against
the demurs of the skeptics. However, in the mean time,
all such demurs were suddenly and officially silenced
forever. Soon after the publication of Kate's memoirs,
in what you may call an early stage of her literary

300

VRotes

career, though two centuries after her personal career
had closed, a regular controversy arose upon the degree
of credit due to these extraordinary confessions (such
they may be called) of the poor conscience-haunted
nun. Whether these in Kate's original MS. were entitled "Autobiographic Sketches," or " Selections Grave
and Gay," from the military experiences of a Nun, or
possibly " The Confessions of a Biscayan Fire-Eater," is
more than I know. No matter, confessions they were;
and confessions that, when at length published, were
absolutely mobbed and hustled by a gang of misbelieving
(i. e., miscreant) critics. And this fact is most remarkable, that the person who originally headed the incredulous party-viz., Sefior De Ferrer, a learned Castilianwas the very same who finally authenticated, by documentary evidence, the extraordinary narrative in those
parts which had most of all invited skepticism. The
progress of the dispute.threw the decision at length upon
the archives of the Spanish Marine. Those for the
southern ports of Spain had been transferred, I believe,
from Cadiz and St. ILucar to Seville; chiefly, perhaps,
through the confusions incident to the two French invasions of Spain in our own day [Ist, that under Napoleon ; 2dly, that under the Duc d'Angouleme]. From
these archives, secondly, from those of Cuzco in South
America; 3dly, amongst the records of some royal courts
in Madrid; 4thly, by collateral proof from the Papal
Chancery; 5thly, from Barcelona-have been drawn
together ample attestations of all the incidents recorded
by Kate. The elopement from St. Sebastian's, the doubling of Cape Horn, the shipwreck on the coast of Peru,
the rescue of the royal banner from the Indians of Chili,
the fatal duel in the dark, the astonishing passage of
the Andes, the tragical scenes at Tucuman and Cuzco,
the return to Spain in obedience to a royal and a papal
summons, the visit to Rome and the interview with the

1 ote

301

pope; finally, the return to South America, and the
mysterious disappearance at Vera Cruz, upon which no
light was ever thrown-all these capital heads of the
narrative have been established beyond the reach of
skepticism: and, in consequence, the story was soon
after adopted as historically established, and was reported at length by journals of the highest credit in
Spain and Germany, and by a Parisian journal so cautious and so distinguished for its ability as the Revue
des Deux Mondes. I must not leave the impression upon
my readers, that this complex body of documentary
evidences has been searched and appraised by myself.
Frankly, I acknowledge that, on the sole occasion when
any opportunity offered itself for such a labor, I shrank
from it as too fatiguing-and also as superfluous; since,
if the proofs had satisfied the compatriots of Catalina,
who came to the investigation with hostile feelings of
partisanship, and not dissembling their incredulity,
armed also (and in Mr. De Ferrer's case conspicuously
armed) with the appropriate learning for giving effect
to this incredulity-it could not become a stranger to
suppose himself qualified for disturbing a judgment
that had been so deliberately delivered. Such a tribunal
of native Spaniards being satisfied, there was no further
opening for demur. The ratification of poor Kate's
memoirs is now therefore to be understood as absolute,
and without reserve.
This being stated,-viz., such an attestation from competent authorities to the truth of Kate's narrative as
may save all readers from my fair Westmoreland friend's
disaster,-it remains to give such an answer, as without
further research can be given, to a question pretty sure
of arising in all reflective readers' thoughts-viz., Does
there anywhere survive a portrait of Kate ? I answerand it would be both mortifying and perplexing if I
could not- Yes. One such portrait there is confessedly;

302

1k0otes

and seven years ago this was to be found at Aix-laChapelle, in the collection of Herr Sempeller. The
name of the artist I am not able to report; neither can
I say whether Herr Sempeller's collection still remains
intact, and remains at Aix-la-Chapelle.
But inevitably to most readers, who review the circumstances of a case so extraordinary, it will occur, that
beyond a doubt many portraits of the adventurous nun
must have been executed. To have affronted the wrath
of the Inquisition, and to have survived such an audacity,
would of itself be enough to found a title for the martial
nun to a national interest. It is tr-ue that Kate had not
taken the veil; she had stopped short of the deadliest
crime known to the Inquisition; but still her transgressions were such as to require a special indulgence; and
this indulgence was granted by a pope to the intercession of a king, the greatest then reigning. It was a
favor that could not have been asked by any greater
man in this world, nor granted by any less. Had no
other distinction settled upon Kate, this would have
been enough to fix the gaze of her own nation. But
her whole life constituted Kate's supreme distinction.
There can be no doubt, therefore, that, from the year
1624 (i. e., the last year of our James I.), she became the
object of an admiration in her own country that was
almost idolatrous. And this admiration was not of a
kind that rested upon any partisan schism amongst her
countrymen. So long as it was kept alive by her bodily
presence amongst them, it was an admiration equally
aristocratic and popular, shared alike by the rich and
the poor--by the lofty and the humble. Great, therefore, would be the demand for her portrait. There is a
tradition that Velasquez, who had in 1623 executed a
portrait of Charles I. (then Prince of Wales), was amongst
those who in the three or four following years ministered
to this demand. It is believed also, that in travelling

1otes

303

from Genoa and Florence to Rome, she sat to various
artists, in order to meet the interest about herself
already rising amongst the cardinals and other dignitaries of the Romish Church. It is probable, therefore,
that numerous pictures of Kate are yet lurking both in
Spain and Italy, but not known as such. For, as the
public consideration granted to her had grown out of
merits and qualities purely personal, and were kept
alive by no local or family memorials rooted in the land,
or surviving herself, it was inevitable that, as soon as
she herself died, all identification of her portraits would
perish: and the portraits would thenceforward be confounded with the similar memorials, past all numbering,
which every year accumulates as the wrecks from household remembrances of generations that are passing or
passed, that are fading or faded, that are dying or buried.
It is well, therefore, amongst so many irrecoverable
ruins, that, in the portrait at Aix-la-Chapelle, we still
possess one undoubted representation (and therefore in
some degree a means for identifying other representations) of a female so memorably adorned by nature;
gifted with such capacities so unparalleled both of doing
and suffering; who lived a life so stormy, and perished
by a fate so unsearchably mysterious.

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1knfcherbocker 1Ruggete

v

XV.-Thoughts of the Emperor Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus, Translated by GEORGE
LONG
..
I 00
" The thoughts of the famous Roman are worthy of a new
introduction to the army of readers through a volume so
dainty and pleasing. "-Intelligencer.
" As a book for hard study, as a book to inspire reverie, as
a book for five minutes or an hour, it is both delightful and
profitable."-7ournal of Education.
" It is an interesting little book, and we feel indebted to the
translator for this presentation of his work."-Presbyterian.

XVI.-.sEsop's Fables.

Rendered chiefly from

original sources. By Rev. THOMAS JAMES, M.A.
With Ioo illustrations of JOHN TENNIELL . $I 25
" It is wonderful the hold these parables have had upon
the human attention; told to children, and yet of no less
interest to men and women."--Chautauqua Herald.
" For many a long day nothing has been thought out or
worked out so sure to prove entirely pleasing to cultured
book-lovers."- The Bookmaker.
" These classic studies adorned with morals were never
more neatLy prepared for the public eye."- The Milwaukee
Wisconsin.

XVII.-Ancient Spanish Ballads. Historic
and Romantic. Translated, with notes, by J. G.
LOCKHART. Reprinted from the revised edition
of 1841, with 60 illustrations by ALLAN, ROBERTS,
SIMSON, WARREN, AUBREY, and HARVEY . $I 50
" A mass of popular poetry which has never yet received
the attention to which it is entitled."-Boston yournal of
Education.
" The historical and artistic settings of these mediaeval
poetic gems enhance the value and attractiveness of the
book."-Buffalo Chronicle Advocate.
" A quaint and interesting book, being a collection of historical and romantic ballads,"-Indianatolis
yournal.

tnicherbocher 1Ruggets

vi

XVIII.-The Wit and Wisdom of Sydney
Smith. A selection of the most memorable pas. $1 oo
sages in his Writings and Conversations
The first series, comprising eighteen volumes, in
.....
$Ig oo
handsome case

XIX.-The Ideals of the Republic; or,
Great Words from Great Americans. Comprising : - The " Declaration of Independence,
1776." " The Constitution of the United States,
"Washington's First Inaugural, 1789."
1789."
"Washington's Second Inaugural, 1793." " Washington's Farewell Address." " Lincoln's First Inaugural, 186." "Lincoln's Second Inaugural, 1865."
" Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, 1863."

.

$1 00

XX.-Selections from Thomas De Quincey.
Comprising :--" On Murder Considered as one of
the Fine Arts." " Three Memorable Murders."
"The Spanish Nun."

.

.

.

.

00oo

In Preparation.

Tales by Heinrich Zschoakke.

Translated by

PARK GODWIN and WILLIAM P. PRENTICE.

American War Ballads.
more
were
1812,
GEO.

A selection of the

noteworthy of the Ballads and Lyrics which
produced during the Revolution, the War of
Edited, with notes, by
and the Civil War.
CARY EGGLESTON. With original illustrations.

French Ballads.

Printed in the original text,

selected and edited, with notes, by Prof. T. F. CRANE.
German Ballads. Printed in the original text.
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, PUBLISHERS.

New York and London.

This book is a preservation facsimile produced for
the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
It is made in compliance with copyright law
and produced on acid-free archival
60# book weight paper
which meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (permanence of paper).
Preservation facsimile printing and binding
by
Northern Micrographics
Brookhaven Bindery
La Crosse, Wisconsin
2012